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Copyright N° o 

COFXRiGHT DEPOSIT. 









STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 


B\> Sara Mare Bassett 

The Invention Series 

Paul and the Printing Press 
Steve and the Steam Engine 














































































“It was the conquering of this multitude of defects that gave to 
the world the intricate, exquisitely made machine.” — Frontispiece. 
See page 103. 



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EVE AND THE 
E A M ENGINE 


BY 

SARA WARE BASSETT 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
A. 0. SCOTT 


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BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1921 



Copyrighty 192 i t 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 


All rights reserved 
Published September, 1921 



SEP '31921 


THE PLIMPTON PRESS 
NORWOOD ‘MASS - U*S ‘A 


§)CI. A622762 


I 


I 


CONTENTS 

IHAPTEE PAGE 

I An Unpremeditated Folly . . . . i 

II A Meeting with an Old Friend . . .19 

III A Second Calamity ..... 34 

IV The Story of the First Railroad . . 51 

V Steve Learns a Sad Lesson .... 67 

VI Mr. Tolman’s Second Yarn . . . .77 

VII A Holiday Journey ..... 94 

VIII New York and What Happened There . no 
IX An Astounding Calamity . . . . 125 

X An Evening of Adventure .... 145 

XI The Crossing of the Country . . .156 

XII New Problems 169 

XIII Dick Makes His Second Appearance . .178 

XIV A Steamboat Trip by Rail . . . .192 

XV The Romance of the Clipper Ship . . 205 

XVI Again the Magic Door Opens . . .216 

XVII More Steamboating . . . . .224 

XVIII A Thanksgiving Tragedy . . . .238 

XIX The End of the House Party . . .248 






s 






































LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

“It was the conquering of this multitude of defects 
that gave to the world the intricate, exquisitely- 
made machine” ...... Frontispiece 

“You’ve got your engine nicely warmed up, young- 
ster,” he observed casually .... page 9 

“I wish you’d tell me about this queer little old- 

fashioned boat” . . . . . . “ 1 81 

He was fighting to prevent himself from being drawn 
beneath the jagged, crumbling edge of the hole . 


244 







STEVE AND THE STEAM 
ENGINE 


CHAPTER I 

AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY 

Steve Tolman had done a wrong thing and he 
knew it. 

While his father, mother, and sister Doris had 
been absent in New York for a week-end visit and 
Havens, the chauffeur, was ill at the hospital, the 
boy had taken the big six-cylinder car from the 
garage without anybody’s permission and carried 
a crowd of his friends to Torrington to a foot- 
ball game. And that was not the worst of it, 
either. At the foot of the long hill leading into the 
village the mighty leviathan so unceremoniously 
borrowed had come to a halt, refusing to move 
another inch, and Stephen now sat helplessly in it, 
awaiting the aid his comrades had promised to 
send back from the town. 

What an ignominious climax to what had prom- 
ised to be a royal holiday! Steve scowled with 
chagrin and disappointment. 

The catastrophe served him right. Unquestion- 


2 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

ably he should not have taken the car without 
asking. He had never run it all by himself before, 
although many times he had driven it when either 
his father or Havens had been at his elbow. It 
had gone all right then. What reason had he to 
suppose a mishap would befall him when they were 
not by? It was infernally hard luck! 

Goodness only knew what was the matter with 
the thing. Probably something was smashed, 
something that might require days or even weeks 
to repair, and would cost a lot of money. Here 
was a pretty dilemma! 

How angry his father would be! 

The family were going to use the automobile 
Saturday to take Doris back to Northampton for 
the opening of college and had planned to make 
quite a holiday of the trip. Now it would all have 
to be given up and everybody would blame him 
for the disappointment. A wretched hole he was in! 

The boys had not given him much sympathy, 
either. They had been ready enough to egg him 
on into wrongdoing and had made of the adven- 
ture the j oiliest lark imaginable; but the moment 
fun had been transformed into calamity they had 
deserted him with incredible speed, climbing out 
of the spacious tonneau and trooping jauntily off 
on foot to see the town. It was easy enough for 
them to wash their hands of the affair and leave 
him to the solitude of the roadside ; the automobile 
was not theirs and when they got home they would 
not be confronted by irate parents. 


AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY 3 

How persuasively, reflected Stephen, they had 
urged him on. 

“Oh, be a sport, Steve!” Jack Curtis had 
coaxed. “Who’s going to be the wiser if you do 
take the car? Anyhow, you have run it before, 
haven’t you? I don’t believe your father will 
mind.” 

“Take a chance, Stevie,” his chum, Bud Taylor, 
pleaded. “What’s the good of being such a boob? 
Do you think if my father had a car and it was 
standing idle in the garage when a bunch of kids 
needed it to go to a school game I would hesitate? 
You bet I wouldn’t!” 

“It isn’t likely your Dad would balk at your 
using the car if he knew the circumstances,” piped 
another boy. “We have got that match to play 
off, and now that the electric cars are held up by 
the strike how are we to get to Torrington? Don’t 
be a ninny, Steve.” 

Thus they had ridiculed, cajoled, and wheedled 
Steve until his conscience had been overpowered 
and, yielding to their arguments, he had set forth 
for the adjoining village with the triumphant 
throng of tempters. At first all had gone well. The 
fourteen miles had slipped past with such smooth- 
ness and rapidity that Stephen, proudly enthroned 
at the wheel, had almost forgotten that any shadow 
rested on the hilarity of the day. He had been 
dubbed a good fellow, a true sport, a benefactor 
to the school — every complimentary pseudonym 
imaginable — and had glowed with pleasure be- 


4 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

neath the avalanche of flattery. As the big car 
with its rollicking occupants had spun along the 
highway, many a passer-by had caught the merry 
mood of the cheering group and waved a smiling 
salutation in response to their shouts. 

In the meanwhile, exhilarated by the novelty of 
the escapade, Steve had increased the speed until 
the red car fairly shot over the level macadam, its 
blurred outlines lost in the scarlet of the autumn 
foliage. Then suddenly when the last half-mile 
was reached and Torrington village, the goal of 
the pilgrimage, was in sight, quite without warning 
the panting monster had stopped and all attempts 
to urge it farther were of no avail. There it stood, 
its motionless engine sending out odors of hot 
varnish and little shimmering waves of heat. 

Immediately a hush had descended upon the 
boisterous company. There was a momentary 
pause, followed by a clamor of advice. When, 
however, it became evident that there was no pros- 
pect of restoring the disabled machine to action, 
one after another of the frightened schoolboys had 
dropped out over the sides of the car and after 
loitering an instant or two with a sort of shame- 
faced indecision, at the suggestion of Bud Taylor 
they had all set out for the town. 

“Tough luck, old chap! ” Bud had called over his 
shoulder. “Mighty tough luck! Wish we had 
time to wait and see what’s queered the thing; but 
the game is called at two-thirty, you know, and 
we have only about time to make it. Well try 


AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY 5 

and hunt up a garage and send somebody back to 
help you. So long!” 

And away they had trooped without so much as 
a backward glance, leaving Stephen alone on the 
country road, worried, mortified, and resentful. 
There was no excuse for their heartless conduct, 
he fumed indignantly. They were not all on the 
eleven. Five of the team had come over in Tim 
Barclay’s Ford, so that several of the fellows Steve 
had brought were merely to be spectators of the 
game. At least Bud Taylor, his especial crony, 
was not playing. He might have remained behind. 
How selfish people were, and what a fleeting thing 
was popularity! Why, half an hour ago he had 
been the idol of the crowd! Then Bud had 
shouted: “Come ahead, kids, let’s hoof it to Tor- 
rington!” and in the twinkling of an eye the tide 
had turned, the mob had shifted its allegiance and 
gone tagging off at the heels of a new leader. They 
did not mean to have their pleasure spoiled, not 
they! 

Scornfully Stephen watched them mount the 
hill, their crimson sweaters making a zigzag line of 
color in the sunshine; even their laughter, care-free 
as if nothing had happened, floated back to him 
on the still air, demonstrating how little concern 
they felt for him and his refractory automobile. 
Well might they proceed light-heartedly to the vil- 
lage, spend their money on sodas and ice-cream 
cones, and shout themselves hoarse at the game. 
No thought of future punishment marred their 


6 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

enjoyment and the program was precisely the one 
he had outlined for himself before Fate had inter- 
vened and raised a prohibitory hand. 

The fun he had missed was, however, of scant 
consequence now. All he asked was to get the car 
safely back to his father’s garage before the family 
returned from New York on the afternoon train. 
Now that his excitement had cooled into sober 
second thought, he marveled that he had been led 
into committing such a monstrous offense. He must 
have been mad. Often he had begged to do the 
very thing he had done and his father had always 
refused to let him, insisting that an expensive tour- 
ing car was no toy for a boy of his age. Perhaps 
there had been some truth in the assertion, too, 
he now admitted. Yet were he to hang for it, he 
could not see why he had not run the car exactly 
as his elders were wont to do. Of course he had 
had a pretty big crowd aboard and the heavy load 
might have strained the machinery; and possibly 
— just possibly — he had speeded a bit. He cer- 
tainly had made phenomenally good time for he 
did not want the fellows to think he was afraid to 
let out the engine. 

Well, whatever the matter was, the harm was 
done now and he was in a most unenviable plight. 
No doubt it would cost a small fortune to get the 
automobile into shape again, more money than he 
had in the world; certainly far more than he had 
in his pocket at the present moment. What was 
he to do? Even suppose the boys did remember 


AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY 7 

to send back help (they probably wouldn’t — but 
suppose they did) how was he to pay a machinist? 
As he pictured himself being towed to a garage and 
the car being left there, he felt an uncomfortable 
sensation in his throat. He certainly was in for 
it now. 

It would be ignominious to charge the repairs to 
his father but that would be the only course left 
him. Fortunately Mr. Tolman, who was a railroad 
official, was well known in the locality and there- 
fore there would be no trouble about obtaining 
credit; but to ask his father to pay the bills for 
this escapade was anything but a manly and hon- 
orable way out and Steve wished with all his heart 
he had never been persuaded into the wretched 
affair. If there were only some escape possible, 
some alternative from being obliged to confess his 
wrong-doing! But to hope to conceal or make 
good the disaster was futile. And even if he could 
cover up what had happened, how contemptible it 
would be! He detested doing anything under- 
handed. Only sneaks and cowards resorted to 
subterfuge and although he had been called many 
names in his life these two had not been among 
them. 

No, he should make a clean breast of what he 
had done and bear the consequences, and once out 
of his miserable plight he would take care never 
again to be a party to such an adventure. He had 
learned his lesson. 

So absorbed was he in framing these worthy 


8 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

resolutions that he did not notice a tiny moving 
speck that appeared above the crest of the hill and 
now came whirling toward him. In fact the dusty 
truck and its yet more dusty driver were beside him 
before he heeded either one. Then the newcomer 
came to a stop and he heard a pleasant voice : 

“What’s the matter, sonny?” 

Stephen glanced up, trying bravely to return his 
questioner’s smile. 

The man who addressed him was white-haired, 
ruddy, and muscular, and he wore brown denim 
overalls stained with oil and grease; but although 
he was middle-aged there was a boyish friendliness 
in his face and in the frank blue eyes that peered 
out from under his shaggy brows. 

“What’s the trouble with your machine?” he 
repeated. 

“I don’t know,” returned Stephen. “If I did, 
you bet I wouldn’t be sitting here.” 

The workman laughed. 

“Suppose you let me have a look at it,” said he, 
climbing off the seat on which he was perched. 

“I wish you would.” 

“It is a pretty fine car, isn’t it?” observed the 
man, as he approached it. “Is it yours?” 

“My father’s.” 

“He lets you use it, eh?” 

1 Stephen did not answer. 

“Some fathers ain’t that generous,” went on the 
man as he began to examine the silent monster. 
“If I had an outfit like this, I ain’t so sure I’d trust 



“You’ve got your engine nicely warmed up, youngster,” he 
observed casually. Page 9. 



AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY 9 

it to a chap of your size. Still, if you have 
your license, I suppose you must know how to 
run it.” 

A shiver passed through Stephen’s body. A 
license! What if the stranger should ask to see it? 

There was a heavy fine, he now remembered, for 
driving a car unless one were in possession of this 
precious paper, although what the penalty was he 
could not at the instant recall ; he had entirely for- 
gotten there were any such legal details. Fearfully 
he eyed the mechanic. 

The man, however, did not pursue the subject 
but instead appeared engrossed in carefully in- 
specting the automobile inside and out. As he 
poked about, now here, now there, Stephen 
watched him with constantly increasing nervous- 
ness; and after the investigation had proceeded 
for some little time and no satisfactory result had 
been reached, the boy’s heart sank. Something 
very serious must be the matter if the trouble were 
so hard to locate, he reasoned. In imagination he 
heard his father’s indignant reprimands and saw 
the Northampton trip shrivel into nothingness. 

The workman in the meantime remained silent, 
offering no comment to relieve his anxiety. What 
he was thinking under the shabby visor cap pulled 
so low over his brows it was impossible to fathom. 
His hand was now unscrewing the top of the gaso- 
line tank. 

“You’ve got your engine nicely warmed up, 
youngster,” observed he casually. “Maybe ’twas 


10 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

just as well you did come to a stop. You must 
have covered the ground at a pretty good clip.” 

There certainly was something very disconcert- 
ing about the stranger’s conversation and again 
Stephen looked at him with suspicion. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he mumbled, trying to as- 
sume an off-hand air. “Perhaps we did come along 
fairly fast.” 

“You weren’t alone then.” 

“N — o,” was the uncomfortable reply. “The 
fellows who sent you back from the village were 
with me.” 

For the first time the workman evinced surprise. 

“Nobody sent me,” he retorted. “I just thought 
as I was going by that you looked as if you were 
up against it, and as I happen to know something 
about engines I pulled up to give you a helping 
hand. The fix you are in isn’t serious, though.” 
He smiled broadly as if something amused him. 

“What is the matter with the car?” demanded 
the boy desperately, in a voice that trembled with 
eagerness and anxiety and defied all efforts to re- 
main under his control. 

“Why, son, nothing is wrong with your car. 
You’ve got no gasoline, that’s all.” 

“Gasoline!” repeated the lad blankly. 

“Sure! You couldn’t have had much aboard 
when you started, I guess. It managed to bring 
you as far as this, however, and here you came to 
a stop. The up-grade of the hill tipped the little 
gas you did have back in the tank so it would not 


AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY n 

run out, you see. Fill her up again and she’ll sprint 
along as nicely as ever.” 

The relief that came with the information al- 
most bowled Steve over. 

For a moment he could not speak; then when he 
had caught his breath he exclaimed excitedly: 

“How can I get some gasoline?” 

His rescuer laughed at the fevered question. 

“Why, I happen to have a can of it here on my 
truck,” he drawled, “and I can let you have part 
of it if you are so minded.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to take yours,” objected the 
boy. 

“Nonsense! Why not? I am going right past 
a garage on my way back and can get plenty more. 
We’ll tip enough of mine into your tank to carry 
you home. It won’t take a minute.” 

The suggestion was like water to the thirsty. 

“All right!” cried Stephen. “If you will let me 
pay for it I shall be mightily obliged to you. I’m 
mightily obliged anyway.” 

“Pshaw! I’ve done nothing,” protested the per- 
son in the oily jumper. “What are we in the world 
for if not to do one another a good turn when we 
can?” 

As he spoke he extricated from his conglomerate 
load of lumber, tools, and boxes a battered can, the 
contents of which he began to transfer into 
Stephen’s empty tank. 

“There!” ejaculated he presently, as he screwed 
the metal top on. “That isn’t all she’ll hold, but 


12 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

it will at least get you home. You are going right 
back, aren’t you?” 

The boy glanced quickly at the speaker. 

“Yes.” 

“That’s right. I would if I were in your place,” 
urged the man. 

Furtively Stephen scrutinized the countenance 
opposite but although the words had contained a 
mingled caution and rebuke there was not the 
slightest trace of interest in the face of the speaker, 
who was imperturbably wiping off the moist nickel 
cap with a handful of waste from his pocket. 

“Yes,” he repeated half -absently, “I take it that 
amount of gas will just about carry you back to 
Coventry; it won’t allow for any detours, to be 
sure, but if you follow the straight road it ought to 
fetch you up there all right.” 

Stephen started and again an interrogation rose 
to his lips. Who was this mysterious mechanic and 
why should he assume with such certainty that 
Coventry was the abiding place of the car? He 
longed to ask but a fear of lengthening the inter- 
view prevented him from doing so. If he began 
to ask questions might not the stranger assume the 
same privilege and wheel upon him with some em- 
barrassing inquiry? No, the sooner he was clear 
of this wizard in the brown overalls the better. 
But for the sake of his peace of mind he should 
like to know whether the man really knew who he 
was or whether his comments were simply matters 
of chance. There certainly was something very 


AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY 13 

uncanny and uncomfortable about it all, something 
that led him to feel that the person in the jumper 
was fully acquainted with his escapade, disap- 
proved of it, and meant to prevent him from pro- 
longing it. Yet as he took a peep into the kindly 
blue eyes which he did not trust himself to meet 
directly he wondered if this assumption were not 
created by a guilty conscience rather than by fact. 
Certainly there was nothing accusatory in the 
other’s bearing. His face was frankness itself. In 
books criminals were always fearing that people 
suspected them, reflected Steve. The man knew 
nothing about him at all. It was absurd to think 
he did. 

Nevertheless the boy was eager to be gone from 
the presence of those searching blue eyes and there- 
fore he climbed into his car, murmuring hurriedly: 

“You’ve been corking to help me out!” 

The workman held up a protesting hand. 

“Don’t think of it again,” he answered. “I was 
glad to do it. Good luck to you!” 

With nervous hands Stephen started the engine 
and, backing the automobile about, headed it 
homeward. Now that danger was past his desire 
to reach Coventry before his father should arrive 
drove every other thought from his mind, and soon 
the mysterious hero of the brown jumper was for- 
gotten. Although he made wonderfully good time 
back over the road it seemed hours before he 
turned in at his own gate and brought the throb- 
bing motor to rest in the garage. A sigh of thank- 


14 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

fulness welled up within him. The great red 
leviathan that had caused him such anguish of 
spirit stood there in the stillness as peacefully as 
if it had never stirred from the spot it occupied. 
If only it had remained there, how glad the boy 
would have been. 

He ventured to look toward the windows front- 
ing the avenue. No one was in sight, it was true; 
but to flatter himself that he had been unobserved 
was ridiculous for he saw by the clock that his 
father, mother, and Doris must already have 
reached home. Doubtless they were in the house 
now and fully acquainted with what he had done. 
If they had not missed the car from the garage they 
would at least have seen it whirl into the driveway 
with him at the wheel. Any moment his father 
might appear at his shoulder. To delay was use- 
less. He had had his fun and now in manly fashion 
he must face the music and pay for it. How he 
dreaded the coming storm! 

Once, twice he braced himself, then moved re- 
luctantly toward the house, climbed the steps, and 
let himself in at the front door. He could hardly 
expect any one would come to greet him under the 
circumstances. An ominous silence pervaded the 
great dim hall but after the glare of the white 
ribbon of road on which his eyes had been so in- 
tently fixed he found the darkness cool and tran- 
quilizing. At first he could scarcely see; then as 
he gradually became accustomed to the faint light 
he espied on the silver card tray a telegram ad- 


AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY 15 

dressed to himself and with a quiver of apprehen- 
sion tore it open. Telegrams were not such a 
common occurrence in his life that he had ceased 
to regard them with misgiving. 

The message on which his gaze rested, however, 
contained no ill tidings. On the contrary it merely 
announced that the family had been detained in 
New York longer than they had expected and 
would not return until noon to-morrow. He would 
have almost another day, therefore, before he 
would be forced to make confession to his father! 
The respite was a welcome one and with it his 
tenseness relaxed. He even gained courage on the 
strength of his steadier nerves to creep into the 
kitchen and confront Mary, the cook, whom he 
knew must have seen him shoot into the driveway 
and who, having been years in the home, would not 
hesitate to lecture him roundly for his conduct. 
But Mary was not there and neither was Julia, the 
waitress. In the absence of the head of the house 
the two had evidently ascended to the third story 
there to forget in sleep the cares of daily life. 
Stephen smiled at the discovery. It was a coinci- 
dence. Unquestionably Fate was with him. It 
helped his self-respect to feel that at least the 
servants were in ignorance of what he had done. 
Nobody knew — nobody at all! 

With an interval of rest and a dash of cold water 
upon his face gradually the act he had committed 
began to sink back into normal perspective and 
loom less gigantic in his memory. After all was 


1 6 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

it such a dreadful thing, he asked himself. Of 
course he should not have done it and he fully in- 
tended to confess his fault and accept the blame. 
But was the folly so terrible? He owned that he 
regretted it and admitted that he was somewhat 
troubled over the probable consequences, and every 
time he awoke in the night a dread of the morrow 
came upon him. In the morning he rushed off to 
school, found the team had won the game, and 
came home feeling even more justified than before. 
Why, if he had not taken the car, the school might 
have forfeited that victory! 

All the afternoon as he sat quietly at his books 
he tried to keep this consideration uppermost in 
his mind. Then at dinner time there was a stir in 
the hall and he knew the moment he feared had 
arrived. The family were back again! Slowly he 
stole down over the heavily carpeted stairs. Yes, 
there they were, just coming in at the door, laugh- 
ing and chatting gaily with Julia, who had let them 
in. The next instant his mother had espied him on 
the landing and had called a greeting. 

There was a smile on her face that reproached 
him for having yielded to the temptation to deceive 
her even for a second. 

“Such a delightful trip as we have had, Steve!” 
she called. “We wished a dozen times that you 
were with us. But some vacation you shall have 
a holiday in New York with your father to pay for 
what you have missed this time. You shall not 
be cheated out of all the fun, dear boy!” 


AN UNPREMEDITATED FOLLY 17 

“Everything been all right here, son?” inquired 
his father from the foot of the stairs. 

“Yes, Dad.” 

“Havens has not showed up yet, I suppose.” 

The boy flushed. 

“No, sir.” 

“It seems to take him an interminable time to 
have his tonsils out. If he does not appear pretty 
soon I shall have to get another man to run the 
car. We can’t be left high and dry like this,” 
fretted the elder man irritably. “Suppose I knew 
nothing about it, where would we be? I wished 
to-day you were old enough to have a license and 
could have come to the station to meet us. I be- 
lieve with a little more instruction you could man- 
age that automobile all right. Not that I should 
let you go racing over the country with a lot of 
boys. But you might be very useful in taking 
your mother and sister about and helping when we 
were in a fix like this. I think you would enjoy 
doing it, too.” 

“I — I’m — sure I should,” replied the lad, 
avoiding his father’s eye and studying the toe of 
his shoe intently. It passed through his mind as 
he stood there that now was the moment for con- 
fession. He had only to say, 

“/ had the car out yesterday” and the dreaded 
ordeal would be over. But somehow he could not 
utter the words. Instead he descended from the 
landing and followed the others into the library 
where the conversation immediately shifted to 


1 8 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

other topics. In the jumble of narrative his chance 
to speak was swallowed up nor during the next few 
days did any suitable opportunity occur for him 
to make his belated confession. When Mr. Tol- 
man was not at meetings of the railroad board he 
was at his office or occupied with important affairs, 
and by and by so many events had intervened that 
to go back into the past seemed to Stephen idle 
sentimentality. At length he had lulled his con- 
science into deciding that in view of the conditions 
it was quite unnecessary to acquaint his father and 
mother with his wrong-doing at all. He was safely 
out of the entanglement and was it not just as well 
to accept his escape with gratitude and let sleep- 
ing dogs lie? All the punishments in the world 
could not change anything now. What would be 
the use of telling? 


CHAPTER II 

A MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND 


The day of the excursion to Northampton was 
one of those clear mornings when a light frost 
turned the maples to vermilion and in a single night 
transformed the ripening summer foliage to the 
splendor of autumn. The Tolman family were in 
the highest spirits; it was not often that Mr. Tol- 
man could be persuaded to leave his business and 
steal away for a week-end and when he did it was 
always a cause for great rejoicing. Doris, elated 
at the prospect of rejoining her college friends, was 
also in the happiest frame of mind and tripped up 
and down stairs, collecting her forgotten posses- 
sions and jamming them into her already bulging 
suitcase. 

As for Steve, the prickings of conscience that 
had at first tormented him and made him shrink 
from being left alone with his father had quite van- 
ished. He had argued himself into a state of 
mental tranquillity where further punishment for 
his misdemeanor seemed superfluous. After his 
hairbreadth escape from disaster there was no 
danger, he argued, of his repeating the experiment, 
and was not this the very lesson all punishments 


20 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

sought to instill? If he had achieved this result 
without bothering his father about the details, why 
so much the better. Did not the old adage say 
that “experience is the best teacher”? Certainly 
in this case the maxim held true. 

Having thus excused his under-handedness and 
stifled the protests of his better nature he felt, or 
tried to feel, entirely at peace with the world ; and 
as he now sauntered out to greet the new day he 
did it as jauntily as if he had nothing to conceal. 
Already the car was at the door with the luggage 
aboard and its engine humming invitingly. As the 
boy listened to the sound he could not but rejoice 
that the purring monster could tell no tales. How 
disconcerting it would be should the scarlet devil 
suddenly shout aloud: “Well, Steve, don’t you hope 
we do not get stalled to-day the way we did going 
to Torrington?” Mercifully there was no danger 
of that. The engine might puff and purr and snort 
but at least it could not talk, and his secret was 
quite safe. This reflection lighted his face with 
courage and when the family came out to join him 
no one would have suspected that the slender boy 
waiting on the doorstep harbored a thought of any- 
thing but anticipation in the prospect of the coming 
holiday. 

“Is everything in, Steve?” asked his father, ap- 
proaching with Doris’s remaining grip. 

“I think so, Dad,” was the reply. “It certainly 
seems as if I had piled in almost a dozen suit- 
cases.” 


A MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND 21 

“Nonsense, Stevie,” pouted Doris. “There were 
only four.” 

“Five, Miss Sophomore!” contradicted her 
brother. “Five! That one Dad is bringing makes 
the fifth, and I would be willing to bet that it is 
yours.” 

“That’s where you are wrong, Smartie,” the girl 
laughed good-humoredly, making a mischievous 
grimace at him from beneath the brim of her saucy 
little toque of blue velvet. “I am not guilty of the 
extra suitcase. It’s mother’s.” 

“Your mother’s!” ejaculated Mr. Tolman in- 
credulously. “Mercy on us! I never knew your 
mother to be starting out on a short trip with such 
an array of gowns.” Then turning toward his wife, 
he added in bantering fashion: “Aren’t you getting 
a little frivolous, my dear? If it were Doris 
now — ” 

“But it isn’t this time!” interrupted the young 
lady triumphantly. 

Her mother exchanged a glance with her and 
they both laughed. 

“No, Henry, I am the one to blame,” Mrs. Tol- 
man admitted. “You see, if I am to keep pace 
with my big son and daughter I must look my best; 
so I have not only brought the extra suitcase but 
I am going to be tremendously fussy as to where 
it is put.” 

“I do believe Mater’s brought all her jewels with 
her!” Steve declared wickedly. “Well, she shall 
have her sunbursts, tiaras, and things where she 


22 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

can keep her eye on them every moment. Suppose 
I put them down here at your feet, Mother.” 

Without further ado, he started to lift the basket 
suitcase into the car. 

“Don’t tip it up, son. Don’t tip it up!” cau- 
tioned his mother. 

“Your mother is afraid of knocking some of the 
pearls or emeralds out of their setting,” chuckled 
Mr. Tolman. “Go easy, Steve!” 

A general laugh arose as the offending piece of 
baggage was stowed away out of sight. An instant 
later wraps and rugs were bundled in, everybody 
was cosily tucked up, and Mr. Tolman placed his 
hands on the wheel. 

“Now we’re off, Dad!” cried Stephen, as he 
sprang in beside his father. Mr. Tolman needed 
no second bidding. 

There was a whir, a leap forward, and the auto- 
mobile glided down the long avenue and out into 
the highway. 

Steve, studying the road map, was too much in- 
terested in tracing out the route they were to fol- 
low to notice that after the car had spun along 
smoothly for several miles its speed lessened, and 
it was not until it came to a complete standstill 
that he aroused himself from his preoccupation 
sufficiently to see that his father was bending for- 
ward over the starter. 

“What’s wrong, Henry?” inquired his wife from 
the back seat. 

“I can’t imagine,” was the impatient reply. 


A MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND 23 

“Had I not left the tank with gasoline in it, I 
should say it was empty; but of course that cannot 
be the case, for I always keep enough in it to carry 
us to the garage. Otherwise we should be stalled 
at our own doorstep and not able to get any- 
where. 

Climbing out, he began to unscrew the metal 
top of the tank while Stephen watched him in con- 
sternation. 

The boy did not need to hear the result of the 
investigation for already the wretched truth flashed 
upon him. The tank was empty; of course it was! 
He knew that without being told. Had not the 
workman who had replenished it Wednesday said 
quite plainly that there was only enough gas in it 
to get him home to Coventry? He should have 
remembered to stop at the garage and take on an 
extra supply on the way back as his father always 
did. How stupid he had been! In his haste to 
get home he had forgotten every other considera- 
tion and the present dilemma was the result of his 
thoughtlessness. Yet how could he have stopped 
at the Coventry garage even had he thought of it? 
All the men there knew him and his father, and if 
he had gone there or had even driven through the 
center of the town somebody would have been sure 
to see him and mention the incident. Why, it was 
to avoid this very danger that he had returned by 
the less frequented way. 

The man in the brown jeans had certainly cal- 
culated to a nicety when he measured out that gas- 


24 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

oline. He had not meant him to do any more rid- 
ing that day; that was apparent. What business 
was it of his, anyway, and why was he so solicitous 
as to where he went? There was something puz- 
zling about that man. Steve had thought so at the 
time. Not that it mattered now. All that did 
matter was that here they were stalled at the side 
of the road in almost the same spot where he had 
been stalled the other day; and they were there 
because he had neglected to procure gasoline. 

The lad felt the hot blood throb in his cheeks. 
Again the chance for confession confronted him 
and again his tongue was tied. In a word he could 
have explained the whole predicament; but he did 
not. Instead he sat as if stunned, the heart inside 
him pounding violently. He saw that his father 
was not only deeply annoyed but baffled to solve 
the incident. 

“The gas is all out; that’s the trouble!” he an- 
nounced. 

“What are we going to do, Dad?” inquired Doris 
anxiously. 

“Oh, we can get more all right, daughter,” re- 
turned her father reassuringly. “Don’t worry, my 
dear. But what I can’t understand is how we come 
to be in such a plight.” 

“Doesn’t gasoline evaporate, Henry?” suggested 
Mrs. Tolman. 

“To some extent, yes; but there could be no 
such shrinkage as this unless there was a leak in 
the tank, I never dreamed the supply was so low. 


A MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND 25 

Well, it is my own fault. I should have made sure 
everything was right before we started.” 

Steve shifted his position uncomfortably. He 
was manly enough not to enjoy hearing his father 
shoulder blame that did not rightfully belong to 
him. 

“Now let me think what we had better do,” went 
on Mr. Tolman. “Unfortunately there isn’t a 
house in sight from which we can telephone for 
help; and we are fully five miles from Torrington. 
Our only hope is that some one bound for the town 
may overtake us and allow Steve to ride to the 
village for aid.” 

“Couldn’t I walk it, Dad?” asked the boy, with 
an impulse to make good the mischief he had done. 

“Oh, no; I wouldn’t do that unless the worst 
befalls,” his father replied kindly. “We should 
gain nothing. It is a long tramp and would simply 
be a waste of time. Let us wait like Mr. Micawber, 
and see if something does not turn up.” 

Wretchedly Stephen settled back into his seat. 
He would rather have walked to Torrington, done 
almost anything rather than remain there in the 
quiet autumn stillness and listen to the accusations 
of his conscience. What a coward he was! 

“It is a shame for us to be tied up here!” he 
heard Doris complain. 

“I know it, daughter, and I am as sorry as you 
are,” responded her father patiently. “In fact, 
probably, I am more sorry, since it is through my 
own carelessness that we are stranded,” 


26 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Again the impulse to blurt out the truth and 
take the blame that belonged to him took posses- 
sion of Stephen; but with resolution he forced it 
back. Nervously he fingered the road map. If he 
had only spoken at the beginning! It was harder 
now. He should have made a clean breast of the 
whole affair when his father got home from New 
York. Then was the time to have done it. But 
since he had let that opportunity pass it was awk- 
ward, almost absurd, to make confession now. He 
would much better keep still. 

In the meanwhile a gradual depression fell upon 
the occupants of the car. Mrs. Tolman did not 
speak ; Doris subsided into hushed annoyance ; and 
Mr. Tolman began to pace back and forth at the 
side of the road and anxiously scan the stretch of 
macadam that narrowed away between the avenue 
of trees bordering the highway. Presently he ut- 
tered an exclamation of relief. 

“Here comes a truck!” he cried. “We will tip 
the driver and persuade him to let you ride on to 
Torrington with him, Steve. This is great luck!” 

Stepping into the pathway of the approaching 
car he held up his hand and the passer-by came to 
a stop beside him. 

Stephen looked up expectantly; then a thrill of 
foreboding seized him and he quickly turned his 
head aside. It needed no second glance to assure 
him that the man whom his father was addressing 
was none other than the workman in the brown 
jeans who had rescued him from his former plight. 


A MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND 27 

He bent lower over the road map, trying to con- 
ceal his face and decide what to do. In another 
moment the teamster would probably recognize 
him, recall the incident of their former meeting, 
and hailing him as an old acquaintance, relate the 
entire story. The possibility was appalling, but 
terrible as it was it did not equal the disquietude 
he experienced when he heard his father ejaculate 
with sudden surprise : 

“Why, if it isn’t O’Malley! I did not recognize 
you, Jake. You are just in time to extricate us 
from a most inconvenient situation. We are 
headed for Northampton and find ourselves with- 
out gasoline. If you can take my son along to 
Torrington with you so he can hunt up a garage 
and ride back with some one on a service car I shall 
be very grateful to you.” 

“I’d be glad to go myself, sir.” 

“No, no! I shall not allow you to do that,” pro- 
tested Mr. Tolman. “You are on your way to 
work and I could not think of detaining you. All 
I ask is that you take my boy along to the village.” 

“I’d really be pleased to go, sir,” reiterated 
O’Malley. “I am in no great rush.” 

“No, I shan’t hear to it, Jake,” Mr. Tolman re- 
peated. “Nevertheless I appreciate your offer. 
Take the boy along and that is all I’ll ask. Come, 
Steve, jump aboard! O’Malley, son, is one of our 
railroad people, whose services we value highly. He 
is going to be good enough to let you ride over to 
Torrington with him.” 


28 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Although the introduction compelled Stephen to 
give the waiting employee a nod of greeting, he 
did not meet his eye or evince any sign of recogni- 
tion, and he sensed that the light that had flashed 
into the man’s face at sight of him died out as 
quickly as it had come. The boy had an uncom- 
fortable realization as he climbed to the seat of the 
truck and took his place beside its driver that 
O’Malley must be rating him as a snob. No one 
but a cad would accept a stranger’s kindness and 
then cut him dead the next time he encountered 
him. It was better to endure this misjudgment, 
however, than to acknowledge a previous acquaint- 
ance with the mechanic and thereby arouse his 
father’s suspicion and curiosity. Hence, without 
further parley, he settled himself and in silence the 
truck started off. 

For some minutes he waited, expecting that 
when they were well out of earshot of the family 
the man at the wheel would turn and with a laugh 
make some reference to the adventure of the past 
week. It certainly must have amused him to find 
the great red car again stalled in the same spot, 
and what would be more natural than that he 
should comment on the coincidence and perhaps 
make a joke of the circumstance? But to the boy’s 
chagrin the teamster did no such thing. Instead 
he kept his eyes fixed on the road and gave no evi- 
dence that he had ever before seen the lad at his 
elbow. 

Stephen was aghast. It was not possible the 


A MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND 29 

workman had forgotten the happening. He began 
to feel very uncomfortable. As the landscape 
slipped past and the car sped on, the distance to 
Torrington lessened. Still there seemed to be no 
prospect of the stranger at the wheel breaking his 
silence. If it had merely been a silence perhaps 
Steve would not have minded so much; but there 
was an implied rebuke in the stillness that nettled 
and stung and left him with a consciousness of 
being ignored by a superior being. 

“I say!” he burst out, when he could endure the 
ignominy of his position no longer, “don’t you re- 
member me, Mr. O’Malley?” 

The man who guided the car did not turn his 
head but he nodded. 

“I remember you all right,” replied he politely. 
“I just thought you did not remember me.” 

“Oh, I remembered you right away,” declared 
Steve eagerly. 

“Did you?” 

There was a subtle irony in the tone that the lad 
was not clever enough to detect. 

“Of course.” 

“Is that so!” came dryly from O’Malley. 

“Yes, indeed! I remembered you right away,” 
Steve stumbled on. “You are the man who gave 
me the gasoline when I was stuck here Wednes- 
day.” 

“I am.” 

“I knew you the first minute I saw you,” re- 
peated Stephen. 


30 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“I did not notice any sign that you did,” was 
the terse response. 

“Oh — well — you see, I couldn’t very well 
speak back there,” explained Steve with confusion. 
“They would all have wanted to know where I — 
I mean I would have to — it would just have made 
a lot of talk,” concluded he lamely. 

For the first time the elder man, moving his eyes 
from the ribbon of gleaming highway, confronted 
him. 

“So your father did not know you had the car 
out the other day?” said he. 

“N —o.” 

The workman showed no surprise. 

“I guessed as much,” he remarked. “But of 
course you have told him since.” 

“Not yet,” Steve stammered. “I was going to 
— honest I was; but things kept interrupting until 
it got to be so late that it seemed silly to rake the 
matter all up. Besides, I shan’t do it again, so 
what is the use of jawing about it?” 

He stopped, awaiting a response from the rail- 
road employee; but none came. 

“Anyhow,” he argued with rising irritability, 
“what good does it do to discuss things that are 
over and done with? You can’t undo them.” 

The man at the wheel vouchsafed no answer. 

“It is because I forgot to stop for more gas when 
I went home the other day that we are in this fix 
now,” Steve finally blurted out, finding relief in 
brutal confession. 


A MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND 31 

Still the only reply to his monologue was the 
chugging of the engine. 

At last his voice rose to a higher pitch and there 
was anger in it. 

“I’m talking to you/’ he shouted in exasperation. 

“I am listening.” 

“Well, why don’t you say something?” 

“What is there to say?” 

“Why — eh — you could tell me what you 
think.” 

“I guess you know that already.” 

Stephen’s face turned scarlet. 

“I did intend to tell my father,” repeated 
he, instantly on the defensive. “Straight goods, I 
did.” 

The man shrugged his shoulders. 

“It was only that it didn’t seem to come right. 
You know how things go sometimes.” 

He saw the workman’s lip curl. 

“You think I ought to have told.” 

“Have I said so?” 

“No, but I know you do think so.” 

“I wasn’t aware I’d expressed any opinion.” 

“No — but — well — hang it all — you think I 
am a coward for not making a clean breast of the 
whole thing!” cried Stephen, now thoroughly en- 
raged. 

“What do you think yourself?” O’Malley sud- 
denly inquired with disconcerting directness. 

“Oh, I know I’ve been rotten,” admitted the boy. 
“Still, even now — ” He paused. 


3 2 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“You mean that even now it isn’t too late?” put 
in the truckman, his face lighting to a smile. 

“N — o; that wasn’t exactly what I was going to 
say,” began the lad, resuming his argumentative 
tone. “What I mean is that — ” 

A swift frown replaced the elder man’s smile. 

“Here we are at the garage,” he broke in. “They 
will do whatever you want them to.” 

He seemed in a hurry and as Stephen could find 
no excuse for lingering he climbed reluctantly out 
of the truck and stood balancing himself on the 
curb that edged the sidewalk. 

“I’m much obliged to you for bringing me over,” 
he observed awkwardly. 

“That’s all right.” 

The man in the brown jeans started his engine. 

“Say, Mr. O’Malley!” called Stephen desper- 
ately. 

“Well?” 

“You — you — won’t tell my father about my 
taking the car, will you?” he pleaded wretchedly. 

“/ tell him?” 

Never had he heard so much scorn compressed 
into three words. 

“You need have no worries,” declared the man 
over his shoulder, a contemptuous sneer curling his 
lips. “I confess my own wrong-doing but I do not 
tattle the sins of other people. Your father will 
never be the wiser about you so far as I am con- 
cerned. Whatever you want him to know you will 
have to tell him yourself.” 


A MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND 33 

Baffled, mortified, and stinging with humiliation 
as if he had been whipped, Stephen watched him 
disappear round the bend of the road. 

O'Malley despised him, that he knew; and he 
did not at all relish being despised. 


CHAPTER III 

A SECOND CALAMITY 


While hunting up the garage and negotiating 
for gasoline Steve thrust resolutely from his mind 
his encounter with O’Malley and the galling sense 
of inferiority it carried with it; but once on the 
highroad again the smart returned and the sting 
lingering behind the man’s scorn was not to be al- 
layed. It required every excuse his wounded dig- 
nity could muster to bolster up his pride and make 
out for himself the plausible case that had previ- 
ously comforted him and lulled his conscience to 
rest. It was now more impossible than ever for 
him to make any confession, he decided ; for having 
denied in his father’s presence O’Malley’s acquaint- 
ance it would be ridiculous to acknowledge that 
he had known the truck driver all along. Of course 
he could not do that. Whatever he might have 
said or done at the time, it was entirely too late 
to go back on his conduct now. One event had 
followed on the heels of another until to slip out 
a single stone of the structure he had built up 
would topple over the whole house. 

If he had spoken in the beginning that would 
have been quite simple. All he could do now was 


A SECOND CALAMITY 35 

to let bygones be bygones and in the pleasure of 
today forget the mistakes of yesterday. Consoled 
by this reflection he managed to recapture such a 
degree of his self-esteem that by the time he re- 
joined the family he was once more holding his 
head in the air and smiling with his wonted light- 
ness of heart. 

“We shall get you to Northampton now, 
daughter, without more delay, I hope,” Mrs. Tol- 
man affirmed when the car was again skimming 
along. “We may be a bit behind schedule; never- 
theless a late arrival by motor will be pleasanter 
than to have made the trip by train.” 

“I should say so!” was the fervent ejaculation. 

“Come, come!” interrupted Mr. Tolman. “I 
shall not sit back and allow you two people to cry 
down the railroads. They are not perfect, I will 
admit, and unquestionably trains do not always go 
at the hours we wish they did; a touring car is, 
perhaps, a more comfortable and luxurious method 
of travel, especially in summer. But just as it is 
an improvement over the train, so the train was 
a mighty advance over the stagecoach of olden 
days.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Dad,” Stephen mused. “I 
am not so sure that I should not have liked stage- 
coaches better. Think what jolly sport it must 
have been to drive all over the country!” 

“In fine weather, yes — that is, if the roads had 
been as excellent as they are now; but you must 
remember that in the old coaching days road- 


36 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

building had not reached its present perfection. 
Traveling by stage over a rough highway in a con- 
veyance that had few springs was not so comfort- 
able an undertaking as it is sometimes pictured. 
Furthermore you must not forget that it was also 
perilous, for not only was there danger from acci- 
dent on these poorly constructed, unlighted thor- 
oughfares but there was in addition the menace 
from highwaymen in the less populated districts. 
It took a great while to make a journey of any 
length, too, and to sleep in a coach where one was 
cramped, jolted, and either none too warm or mis- 
erably hot was not an unalloyed delight, as I am 
sure you will agree.” 

“I had not thought of any of those things,” 
owned Stephen. “It just seemed on the face of it 
as if it must have been fun to ride on top of the 
coach and see the sights as one does from the Fifth 
Avenue or London buses.” 

“Oh,” laughed his father, “a few hours’ adven- 
ture like that is quite a different affair from making 
a stagecoach journey. I grant that to ride on a 
clear morning through the streets of a great city, 
or bowl along the velvet roads of a picturesque 
countryside as one frequently does in England is 
very delightful. To read Dickens’ descriptions of 
journeys up to London is to long to don a great- 
coat, wind a muffler about one’s neck, and amid 
the cracking of whips and tooting of horns dash off 
behind the horses for the fairy city his pen por- 
trays. Who would not have liked, for example, to 


A SECOND CALAMITY 37 

set out with Mr. Pickwick for the Christmas holi- 
days at Dingley Dell? Why, you cannot even read 
about it without seeing in your mind’s eye the en- 
vious throng that crowded the inn yard and 
watched while the stableboys loosed the heads of 
the leaders and the steeds galloped away! And 
those marvelous country taverns he depicts, with 
their roaring fires, their steaming roasts, their big 
platters of fowl deluged in gravy, and their hot 
puddings! Was there ever writer more tantaliz- 
ing?” 

“You will have us all hungry in two minutes, 
Dad, if you keep on,” exclaimed Stephen. 

“And Dickens has us hungry, too,” declared Mr. 
Tolman. “Nevertheless we must not forget that 
he paints but one side of the picture. He fails to 
emphasize what such a trip meant when the 
weather was cold and stormy, and those outside 
the coach as well as those inside it were often 
drenched with rain or snow, and well-nigh frozen 
to death. Moreover, while it is true that many of 
the inns along the turnpike were clean and fur- 
nished excellent fare, there were others that could 
boast nothing better than chilly rooms, damp beds, 
and only a very limited hospitality.” 

“I believe you are a realist, Henry,” said his 
wife playfully. 

Her husband laughed. 

“Nor must we lose sight of the time consumed 
by making a trip by coach,” he went on. “Business 
in those days was not such a rushing matter as it 


38 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

is now, of course; yet even when issues of impor- 
tance were at stake, or crises of life and death were 
to be met, there was no hurrying things beyond a 
certain point. Physical impossibility prohibited 
it. Horses driven at their liveliest pace could cover 
only a comparatively small number of miles an 
hour; and at the points where the relays were 
changed, or the horses fed and rested; the mails 
deposited or taken aboard; and passengers left or 
picked up, there were unavoidable delays. In fact, 
the strongest argument against the stagecoach, and 
the one that influenced public opinion the most, 
was this so-called fast-mail service; for in order to 
make connections with other mail coaches along the 
route and not forfeit the money paid for doing so, 
horses were often driven at such a merciless rate 
of speed that the poor creatures became total 
wrecks within a very short time. Many a horse 
fell in its tracks in the inn yards, having been 
lashed along to make the necessary ten miles an 
hour and reach a specified town on schedule. Other 
horses were maimed for life. It is tragic to con- 
sider that in England before the advent of the rail- 
road about thirty thousand horses were annually 
either killed outright or injured so badly that they 
were of little use afterward.” 

“Great Scott, Dad!” ejaculated Stephen. 

“And England was no more guilty in this re- 
spect than was America, for in the early days of 
our own country when people were demanding 
quicker transportation and swifter mail service 


A SECOND CALAMITY 39 

thousands of noble beasts offered up their last 
breath in making the required rate of speed.” 

“I suppose nobody thought about the horses,” 
murmured the boy. “I am sure I didn’t.” 

“If the public thought at all it was too selfish 
to care, I am afraid, until threatened by the pos- 
sibility of the total extermination of these crea- 
tures,” was his father’s reply. “This danger, 
blended with a humane impulse which rose from 
the gentler-minded portion of the populace, was 
the decisive factor in urging men to seek out some 
other method of travel. Then, too, the world was 
waking up commercially and it was becoming im- 
perative to find better ways for transporting the 
ever increasing supplies of merchandise. The quick 
moving of troops from one point to another was 
also an issue. Although the canals of England 
enabled the government to carry quite a large body 
of men, the method was a slow one. In 1806, for 
instance, it took exactly a week to shift troops from 
Liverpool to London, a distance of thirty-four 
miles.” 

“Why, they could have marched it in less time 
than that, couldn’t they?” questioned Doris de- 
risively. 

“Yes, the journey might easily have been made 
on foot in two days,” nodded her father. “But 
in war time a long march which exhausts the sol- 
diers is frequently an unwise policy, for the men 
are in no condition when they arrive to go into im- 
mediate action, as reinforcements often must” 


40 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“I see,” answered Doris. 

“When the Liverpool and Manchester Railroad 
was opened in 1830 this thirty-four miles was cov- 
ered in two hours,” continued Mr. Tolman. “Of 
course the quick transportation of troops was then, 
as now, of very vital importance. We have had 
plenty of illustrations of that in our recent war 
against Germany. Frequently the fate of a battle 
has hung on large reenforcements being speedily 
dispatched to a weak point in the line. More- 
over, by means of the railroads, vast quantities of 
food, ammunition and supplies of all sorts can con- 
stantly be sent forward to the men in action. Dur- 
ing the late war our American engineers laid miles 
and miles of track under fire, thereby keeping open 
the route to the front so that there was no danger 
of the fighters being cut off and left unequipped. 
It was a service for which they, as well as our na- 
tion, won the highest praise. And not only was 
there a constant flow of supplies but it was by 
means of these railroads that hospital trains were 
enabled to carry to dressing stations far behind the 
lines thousands of wounded men whose lives might 
otherwise have been lost.” 

“I suppose the slightly wounded could be made 
more comfortable in this way, too,” Mrs. Tolman 
suggested. 

“Yes, indeed,” was the reply. “Not only were 
the men better cared for in the roomier hospitals 
behind the lines, but as there was more space there 
the peril from contagion, always a menace when 


A SECOND CALAMITY 41 

large numbers of sick are packed closely together, 
was greatly lessened; for there is nothing army 
doctors dread so much as an epidemic of disease 
when there is not enough room to isolate the pa- 
tients.” 

“When did England adopt railroads in place of 
stagecoaches, Dad?” asked Doris presently. 

At the question her father laughed. 

“See here! ” he protested good-humoredly, “what 
do you think I am? Just because I happen to be 
a superintendent do you think me a volume of rail- 
road history, young woman? The topic, I confess, 
is a fascinating one; but I am off for a vacation 
to-day.” 

“Oh, tell us, Dad, do!” urged the girl. 

“Nonsense! What is the use of spoiling a fine 
morning like this talking business?” objected her 
father. 

“But it is not business to us,” interrupted Mrs. 
Tolman. “It is simple a story — a sort of fairy 
tale.” 

“It is not unlike a fairy tale, that’s a fact,” re- 
flected her husband gravely. “Imagine yourself 
back, then, in 1 700, before steam power was in use 
in England. Now you must not suppose that steam 
had never been heard of, for an ancient Alexan- 
drian record dated 120 B. C. describes a steam 
turbine, steam fountain, and steam boiler; never- 
theless, Hero, the historian who tells us of them, 
leaves us in doubt as to whether these wonders 
were actually worked out, or if they were, whether 


42 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

they were anything but miniature models. Still 
the fact that they are mentioned goes to prove that 
there were persons in the world who at a very early 
date vaguely realized the possibilities of steam as 
a force, whether turned to practical uses or not. 
For years the subject remained an alluring one 
which led many a scientist into experiments with- 
out number. In various parts of the world men 
played with the idea and wrote about it; but no 
one actually produced any practical steam contriv- 
ance until 1650, when the second Marquis of 
Worcester constructed a steam fountain that could 
force the water from the moat around his castle as 
high as the top of one of the towers. The feat 
was looked upon as a marvel and afterward a 
larger fountain, similar in principle, was con- 
structed at Vauxhall and from that time on the fu- 
ture of steam as a motive power was assured.” 

“Did the Marquis of Worcester go on with his 
experiments and make other things?” demanded 
Stephen. 

“Apparently not,” replied his father. “He did, 
nevertheless, furnish a basis for others to work on. 
Scientists were encouraged to investigate with re- 
doubled zeal this strange vapor which, when con- 
trolled and directed, could carry water to the top 
of a castle tower. When in 1698 Savery turned 
Worcester’s crude steam fountain to draining 
mines and carrying a water supply, every vestige 
of doubt that this mighty power could be applied 
to practical uses vanished.” 


A SECOND CALAMITY 43 

“Did the steam engine come soon afterward?” 
queried Doris, who had become interested in the 
story. 

“No, not immediately,” answered Mr. Tolman, 
pausing to shift the gear of the car. “Before the 
steam engine, as we know it, saw the light, there 
had to be more experimenting and improving of 
the steam fountain. It was not until 1705 that 
Thomas Newcomen and his partner, John Calley, 
invented and patented the first real steam engine. 
Of course it was not in the least like the engines 
we use now. Still, it was a steam device with mov- 
ing parts which would pump water, a tremendous 
advance over the mechanisms of the past where all 
the power had been secured by the alternate filling 
and emptying of a vacuum, or vacant receptacle, 
attached to the pump. Now, with Newcomen’s 
engine a complete revolution took place. The en- 
gine with moving parts, the ancestor of our modern 
exquisitely constructed machinery, speedily 
crowded out the primitive steam fountain idea. 
The new device was very imperfect, there can be 
no question about that; but just as the steam foun- 
tain furnished the inspiration for the engine with 
moving parts, so this forward step became the 
working hypothesis for the engines that followed.” 

“What engines did follow?” Doris persisted, 
“and who did invent our steam engine?” 

“Silly! And you in college,” jeered Steve dis- 
dainfully. 

“I am not taking a course in steam engines 


44 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

there,” laughed his sister teasingly. “Anyway, 
girls are not expected to know who invented all the 
machines in the world, are they, Dad?” 

Mr. Tolman waited a moment, then said sooth- 
ingly: 

“No, dear. Girls are not usually so much inter- 
ested in scientific subjects as boys are — although 
why they should not be I never could quite under- 
stand. Nevertheless, I think it might be as well 
for even a girl to know to whom we are indebted 
for such a significant invention as the steam 
engine. 

“It was James Watt,” Stephen asserted tri- 
umphantly. 

“It certainly was,” his father agreed. “And 
since your brother has his information at his 
tongue’s end, suppose we get him to tell us more 
about this remarkable person.” 

Stephen flushed. 

“I’m afraid,” began he lamely, “that I don’t 
know much more. You see, I studied about him 
quite a long time ago and I don’t remember the 
details. I should have to look it up. I do recall 
the name, though — ” 

His father looked amused. 

“I don’t know which of you children is the more 
blameworthy,” remarked he in a bantering tone. 
“Doris, who never heard of Watt; or Stephen, who 
has forgotten all about him.” 

Both the boy and the girl chuckled good- 
humoredly. 


A SECOND CALAMITY 45 

“At least I knew his name, Dad — give me 
credit for that/’ piped Steve. 

“That was something, certainly,” Mrs. Tolman 
declared, joining in the laugh. 

“Well, since neither of us can furnish the story, 
I don’t see but that you will have to do it, Dad,” 
Doris said mischievously. 

“It would be a terrible humiliation if I should 
discover that I could not do it, wouldn’t it?” re- 
plied Mr. Tolman with a smile. “In point of fact, 
there actually is not a great deal more that it is 
essential for one to know. It was by perfecting 
the engines of the Newcomen type and adding 
to them first one and then another valuable de- 
vice that Watt finally built up the forerunner of 
our present-day engine. The progression was a 
gradual one. Now he would better one part, then 
some other. He surrounded the cylinder, for ex- 
ample, with a jacket, or chamber, which contained 
steam at the same pressure as that within the 
boiler, thereby keeping it as hot as the steam that 
entered it — a very important improvement over 
the old idea; then he worked out a plan by which 
the steam could be admitted at each end of the 
cylinder instead of at one end, as was the case with 
former engines. The latter innovation resulted in 
the push and pull of the piston rod. So it went.” 

“How did Watt come to know so much about 
engines?” asked Stephen. 

“Oh, Watt was an engineer by trade — or rather 
he was a maker of mathematical instruments for 


46 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

the University of Glasgow, where he came into 
touch with a Newcomen engine. He also made sur- 
veys of rivers, harbors, and canals. So you see 
it was quite a consistent thing that a man with 
such a bent of mind should take up the pastime of 
experimenting with a toy like the steam engine in 
his leisure hours.” 

“Did he go so far as to patent it, Henry?” Mrs. 
Tolman questioned. 

“Yes, he did. Many of our scientists either had 
not the wit to do this, alas, or else they were too 
impractical to appreciate the value of their ideas. 
In consequence the glory and financial benefit of 
what they did was often filched from them. But 
Watt was a Scotchman and canny enough to 
realize to some extent what his invention was 
worth. He therefore obtained a patent on it which 
was good for twenty-five years; and when, in 1800, 
this right expired he retired from business with 
both fame and fortune.” 

“It is nice to hear of one inventor who got some- 
thing out of his toil,” Mrs. Tolman observed. 

“Indeed it is. Think of the many men who 
have slaved day and night, forfeited health, friends, 
and money to give to the world an idea, and never 
lived to receive either gratitude or financial re- 
ward, dying unknown or entirely forgotten. There 
is something tragic about the injustice of it. But 
Watt, I am glad to say, lived long enough to wit- 
ness the service he had done mankind and enjoy 
an honored place among the great of the world.” 


A SECOND CALAMITY 47 

“Is the kind of engine Watt invented now in 
use?” Doris inquired. 

“Yes, that is a double-acting or reciprocating 
engine of a more perfect type,” her father re- 
turned. “Mechanics and engineers went on im- 
proving Watt’s engine just as he had improved 
those that had preceded it. It is interesting, too, 
to notice that after thousands of years scientists 
have again worked around to the steam turbine 
described so long ago in the Alexandrian records. 
This engine, although it does away with many of 
the moving parts introduced by Newcomen, pre- 
serves the essential principles of that early engine 
combined with Watt’s later improvements. To- 
day we have a number of different kinds of en- 
gines, their variety differing with the purpose to 
which they are applied. Their cost, weight, and 
the space they require have been reduced and their 
power increased, and in addition we have made it 
possible to run them not only by means of coal or 
wood but by gasoline, oil, or electricity. We have 
small, light-weight engines for navigation use; 
mighty engines to propel our great warships and 
ocean liners ; stationary engines for mills and power 
plants; to say nothing of the wonderful locomo- 
tive engines that can draw the heaviest trains over 
the highest of mountains. The principle of all 
these engines is, however, the same and for the 
brain behind them we must thank James Watt.” 

“Was it Watt who invented the locomotive, 
too?” ventured Doris. Her father shook his head. 


48 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“The perfecting of the locomotive, my dear, is, 
as Kipling says, another story.” 

“Tell it to us.” 

“Not now, daughter,” protested Mr. Tolman. 
“I am far too hungry; and more than that I am 
eager to enjoy this beautiful country and forget 
railroads and locomotives.” 

“Did you say you were hungry, Henry?” asked 
Mrs. Tolman. 

“I am — starved!” her husband said apologeti- 
cally. “Isn’t it absurd to be hungry so early in 
the day?” 

“It is nearly noon, Dad!” said Steve, glancing 
down at the clock in the front of the car. 

“Noon! Why, I thought it was still the middle 
of the morning.” 

“No, indeed! While you have been talking we 
have come many a mile, and the time has slipped 
past,” his wife said. “If all goes well — ” The 
shot from a bursting tire rent the air. 

“Which evidently it does not,” interrupted Mr. 
Tolman grimly, bringing the car to a stop. “How 
aggravating! We were almost into Palmer, where 
I had planned for us to lunch. Now it may be 
some little time before we can get anything to 
eat.” 

“Motorist’s luck! Motorist’s luck, my dear!” 
cried Mrs. Tolman gaily. “An automobilist must 
resign himself to taking cheerfully what comes.” 

“That is all very well,” grumbled her husband, 
as he clambered out of the car. “Nevertheless you 


A SECOND CALAMITY 49 

must admit that this mishap on the heels of the 
other one is annoying.” 

Stephen also got out and the two bent to ex- 
amine the punctured tire. 

“I should not mind so much if I were not so 
hungry,” murmured Mr. Tolman. “How are you, 
Steve? Fainting away?” 

The boy laughed. 

“Well, I could eat something if I had it,” he 
confessed. 

“I wish I hadn’t mentioned food,” went on Mr. 
Tolman humorously. “It was an unfortunate sug- 
gestion.” 

“I’m hungry, too,” piped Doris. 

“There, you see the epidemic you have started, 
Henry,” called Mrs. Tolman accusingly. “Here is 
Doris vowing she is in the last throes of starva- 
tion.” 

Nobody noticed that in the meanwhile the 
mother had reached down and lifted into her lap 
the small suitcase hidden in the bottom of the 
car. She opened the cover and began to remove 
its contents. 

At length, when a remark her husband made to 
her went unheeded, he sensed her preoccupation 
and came around to the side of the car where she 
was sitting. Immediately he gave a cry of sur- 
prise. 

“My word!” he exclaimed. “Steve, come here 
and see what your mother has.” 

Stephen looked. 


50 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

There sat Mrs. Tolman, unpacking with quiet 
enjoyment sandwiches, eggs, cake, cookies, and 
olives. 

A shout of pleasure rose from the famished 
travelers. 

“So it was not your jewels, after all, Mater!” 
cried Stephen. 

“No, and after the way you have slandered 
me and my little suitcase, none of you deserve a 
thing to eat,” his mother replied. “However, I 
am going to be magnanimous if only to shame you. 
Now climb in and we will have our lunch. You 
can fix the tire afterward.” 

The men were only too willing to obey. 

As with brightened faces they took their seats 
in the car, Stephen smiled with affection at his 
mother. 

“Well, Mater, Watt was not the only person 
who lived to see himself appreciated ; and I don’t 
believe people were any more grateful to him for 
his steam engine than we are to you right now for 
this luncheon. You are the best mother I ever 
had.” 


CHAPTER IV 

THE STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD 

The new tire went on with unexpected ease and 
early afternoon saw the Tolmans once more bowl- 
ing along the highway toward Northampton. The 
valley of the Connecticut was decked with harvest 
products as for an autumnal pageant. Stacks of 
corn dotted the fields and pyramids of golden 
pumpkins and scarlet apples made gay the verandas 
of the old homesteads or brightened the doorways 
of the great red barns flanking them. 

“All that is needed to transform the scene into 
a giant Hallowe’en festival is to have a witch 
whisk by on a broomstick, or a ghost bob up from 
behind a tombstone,” declared Mrs. Tolman. 
“Just think! If we had come by train we would 
have missed all this beauty.” 

“I see plainly that you do not appreciate the 
railroads, my dear,” returned her husband mis- 
chievously. “This is the second time to-day that 
you have slandered them. You sound like the 
early American traveler who asserted that it was 
ridiculous to build railroads which did very uncom- 
fortably in two days what could be done delight- 
fully by coach in eight or ten.” 


52 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Why, I should have thought people who had 
never heard of motor-cars would have welcomed 
the quicker transportation the railroads offered,” 
was Mrs. Tolman’s reply. 

“One would have thought so,” answered Mr. 
Tolman. “Still, when we recall how primitive the 
first railroads were, the prejudice against them is 
not to be wondered at.” 

How did they differ from those we have now, 
Dad?” Doris asked. 

“In almost every way,” answered her father, 
with a smile. “You see at the time Stephenson 
invented his steam locomotive nothing was known 
of this novel method of travel. As I told you, 
persons were accustomed to make journeys either 
by coach or canal. Then the steam engine was 
invented and immediately the notion that this 
power might be applied to transportation took pos- 
session of the minds of people in different parts of 
England. As a result, first one and then another 
made a crude locomotive and tried it out without 
scruple on the public highway, where it not only 
frightened horses but terrified the passers-by. 
Many an amusing story is told of the adventures of 
these amateur locomotives. A machinist named 
Murdock, who was one of James Watt’s assistants, 
built a sort of grasshopper engine with very long 
piston rods and with legs at the back to help push 
it along; with this odd contrivance he ventured 
out into the road one night just at twilight. Un- 
fortunately, however, his restless toy started off 


STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD 53 

before he was ready to have it, and turning down 
an unfrequented lane encountered a timid clergy- 
man who was taking a peaceful stroll and fright- 
ened the old gentleman almost out of his wits. The 
poor man had never seen a locomotive before and 
when the steaming object with its glowing furnace 
and its host of moving arms and legs came puffing 
toward him through the dusk he was overwhelmed 
with terror and screamed loudly for help.” 

A laugh arose from the listeners. 

“And that is but one of the many droll experi- 
ences of the first locomotive makers,” continued 
Mr. Tolman. “For example Trevithick, another 
pioneer in the field, also built a small steam loco- 
motive which he took out on the road for a trial 
trip. It chanced that during the experimental 
journey he and his fireman came to a tollgate and 
puffing up to the keeper with the baby steam en- 
gine, they asked what the fee would be for it to 
pass. Now the gate keeper, like the minister, had 
had no acquaintance with locomotives, and on 
seeing the panting red object looming like a specter 
out of the darkness and hearing a man’s voice 
intermingled with its gasps and snorts, he shouted 
with chattering teeth: 

“There is nothing to pay, my dear Mr. Devil! 
Just d-r-i-v-e along as f-a-s-t — as — ever — you 
— can.” 

His hearers applauded the story. 

“Who did finally invent the railroad?” inquired 
Doris after the merriment had subsided. 


54 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“George Stephenson, an Englishman,” replied 
her father. “For some time he had been experi- 
menting with steam locomotives at the Newcastle 
coal mines where some agency stronger than mules 
or horses was needed to carry the products from 
one place to another. He had no idea of trans- 
porting people when he began to work out the sug- 
gestion. All he thought of was a coal train which 
would run on short lengths of track from mine to 
mine. But the notion assumed unexpected pro- 
portions until the Darlington road, the most ambi- 
tious of his projects, reached the astonishing dis- 
tance of thirty-seven miles. When the rails for 
it were laid the engineer intended it should be 
used merely for coal transportation, as its prede- 
cessors had been; but some of the miners who 
lived along the route and were daily obliged to 
go back and forth to work begged that some sort 
of a conveyance be made that could also run along 
the track and enable them to ride to work instead 
of walking. So a little log house not unlike a log 
cabin, with a table in the middle and some chairs 
around it, was mounted on a cart that fitted the 
rails, and a horse was harnessed to the unique 
vehicle.” 

“And it was this log cabin on wheels that gave 
Stephenson his inspiration for a railroad train!” 
gasped Doris. 

“Yes,” nodded her father. “When the engineer 
saw the crude object the first question that came 
to him was why could not a steam locomotive pro- 


STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD 55 

pel cars filled with people as well as cars filled with 
coal. Accordingly he set to work and had several 
coach bodies mounted on trucks, installing a lever 
brake at the front of each one beside the coach- 
man’s box. In front of the grotesque procession 
he placed a steam locomotive and when he had 
fastened the coaches together he had the first 
passenger train ever seen.” 

“It must have been a funny looking thing!” 
Steve exclaimed, smiling with amusement at the 
picture the words suggested. 

“It certainly was,” agreed his father. “If you 
really wish to know how funny, some time look up 
the prints of this great-great-grandfather of our 
present-day Pullman and you will be well repaid 
for your trouble; the contrast is laughable.” 

“But was this absurd venture a success?” 
queried Mrs. Tolman incredulously. 

“Indeed it was!” returned her husband. “In 
fact, Stephenson, like Watt, was one of the few 
world benefactors whose gift to humanity was in- 
stantly hailed with appreciation. The railroad was, 
to be sure, a wretched little affair when viewed 
from our modern standpoint, for there were no 
gates at the crossings, no signals, springless cars, 
and every imaginable discomfort. Fortunately, 
however, our ancestors had not grown up amid 
the luxuries of this era, and being of rugged stock 
that was well accustomed to hardships of every 
variety they pronounced the invention a marvel, 
which in truth it was, 


56 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“You’ve said it!” chuckled Steve in the slang 
of the day. 

“In the meantime,” went on Mr. Tolman, “con- 
ditions all over England were becoming more and 
more congested, and from every direction a clamor 
arose for a remedy. You see the invention of 
steam spinning machinery had greatly increased 
the output of the Manchester cotton mills until 
there was no such thing as getting such a vast 
bulk of merchandise to those who were eager to 
have it. Bales of goods waiting to be transported 
to Liverpool not only overflowed the warehouses 
but were even stacked in the open streets where 
they were at the mercy of robbers and storms. 
The canals had all the business they could handle, 
and as is always the result in such cases their 
owners became arrogant under their prosperity and 
raised their prices, making not the slightest attempt 
to help the public out of its dilemma. Undoubt- 
edly something had to be done and in desperation 
a committee from Parliament sent for Stephenson 
that they might discuss with him the feasibility of 
building a railroad from Manchester to Liverpool. 
The committee had no great faith in the enterprise. 
Most of its members did not believe that a railroad 
of any sort was practical or that it could ever attain 
speed enough to be of service. However, it was 
a possibility, and as they did not know which way 
to turn to quiet the exasperated populace they 
felt they might as well investigate this remedy. 
It could do no harm.” 


STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD 57 

Mr. Tolman paused as he stooped to change the 
gear of the car. 

“So Stephenson came before the board, and one 
question after another was hurled at him. When, 
however, he was asked, half in ridicule, whether 
or not his locomotive could make thirty miles an 
hour and he answered in the affirmative, a shout of 
derision arose from the Parliament members. No- 
body believed such a miracle possible. Neverthe- 
less, in spite of their sceptical attitude, it was 
finally decided to build the Liverpool-Manchester 
road and about a year before its opening a date was 
set for a contest of locomotives to compete for the 
five-hundred-pound prize offered by the directors 
of the road.” 

“I suppose ever so many engines entered the 
lists,” ventured Steve with interest. 

“There were four,” returned his father. 

“And Stephenson drove one of them?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, I hope it got the prize!” put in Doris 
eagerly. 

Her father smiled at her earnestness. 

“It did,” was his reply. “Stephenson’s engine 
was called the ‘ Rocket’ and was a great improve- 
ment over the locomotive he had used at the mines, 
for this one had not only a steam blast but a multi- 
tubular boiler, a tremendous advance in engine 
building.” 

“I suppose that the winner of the prize not only 
got the money the road offered but his engine was 


58 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

the one chosen as a pattern for those to be used 
on the new railroad,” ventured Stephen. 

“Precisely. So you see a great deal depended on 
the showing each locomotive made. Unluckily 
in the excitement a tinder box had been forgotten, 
and when it came time to start, the spark to light 
the fires had to be obtained from a reading glass 
borrowed from one of the spectators. This, of 
course, caused some delay. But once the fires 
were blazing and steam up, the engines puffed 
away to the delight of those looking on.” 

“I am glad Stephenson was the winner,” put in 
Doris. 

“Yes,” agreed her father. “He had worked 
hard and deserved success. It would not have 
seemed fair for some one else to have stolen the 
fruit of his toil and brain. Yet notwithstanding 
this, his path to fame was not entirely smooth. 
Few persons win out without surmounting obsta- 
cles and Stephenson certainly had his share. Not 
only was he forced to fight continual opposition, 
but the opening of the Manchester and Liverpool 
road, which one might naturally have supposed 
would be a day of great triumph, was, in spite of 
its success, attended by a series of catastrophes. 
It was on September 15, 1830, that the ceremonies 
took place, and long before the hour set for the 
gaily decorated trains to pass the route was lined 
with excited spectators. The cities of Liverpool 
and Manchester also were thronged with those 
eager to see the engines start or reach their desti- 


STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD 59 

nation. There were, however, mingled with the 
crowd many persons who were opposed to the new 
venture.” 

“Opposed to it?” Steve repeated with surprise. 

“Yes. It seems odd, doesn’t it?” 

“But why didn’t they want a railroad?” per- 
sisted the boy. “I thought that was the very thing 
they were all demanding.” 

“You must not forget the condition of affairs at 
the time,” said his father. “Remember the advent 
of steam machinery had deprived many of the 
cotton spinners of their jobs and in consequence 
they felt bitterly toward all steam inventions. 
Then in addition there were the stagecoach drivers 
who foresaw that if the railroads supplanted 
coaches they would no longer be needed. More- 
over innkeepers were afraid that a termination of 
stage travel would lessen their trade.” 

“Each man had his own axe to grind, eh?” 
smiled Steve. 

“I’m afraid so,” his father answered. “Human 
nature is very selfish, and then as now men who 
worked for the general welfare regardless of their 
own petty preferences were rare. To the side of 
the enemies of the infant invention flocked every 
one with a grievance. The gentry argued that the 
installation of locomotives would frighten the game 
out of the country and ruin the shooting. Other 
opposers contended that the smoke from the en- 
gines would not only kill the birds but in time kill 
the patrons of the railroads as well. Still others 


60 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

protested that the sparks from the funnels might 
set fire to the fields of grain or to the forests. A 
swarm of added opponents dwelt on the fact that 
the passengers would be made ill by the lurching 
of the trains; that the rapid inrush of air would 
prevent their breathing; and that every sort of 
people would be herded together without regard 
to class, — the latter a very terrible calamity in a 
land where democracy was unknown. Even such 
intelligent men as the poet Wordsworth and the 
famous writer Ruskin came out hotly against the 
innovation, seeing in it nothing but evil.” 

“ Didn’t the opening of the Manchester and 
Liverpool Railroad convince the kickers they were 
wrong?” asked Steve. 

“Unfortunately not,” was Mr. Tolman’s reply. 
“You see several unlucky incidents marred the 
complete success of the occasion. As the trains 
trimmed with bunting and flowers started out 
the scene seemed gay enough. On one car was 
a band of music; on another the directors of the 
road; and on still another rode the Duke of Well- 
ington, who at that time was Prime Minister of 
England and had come down from London with 
various other dignitaries to honor the enterprise. 
Church bells rang, cannon boomed, and horns and 
whistles raised a din of rejoicing. But everywhere 
among the throng moved a large group of unem- 
ployed laborers who had returned from the Na- 
poleonic wars in a discontented frame of mind and 
resented the use of steam machinery. They were 


STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD 61 

on edge for trouble and if there were none they 
were ready to make it. So strong was the resent- 
ment of this element against the government that it 
seemed tempting Providence for the Prime Min- 
ister to venture into the manufacturing district of 
Manchester. At first it was decided that he would 
better omit the trip altogether; but on second 
thought it seemed wiser for him not to add fuel to 
the flames by disappointing the mill workers. The 
audience was in too ugly a mood to be angered. 
Therefore Wellington bravely resolved to carry out 
the program and ride in one of the open cars.” 

“I hope nothing happened to him, Dad!” 
gasped Doris breathlessly. 

“Nothing beyond a good many minor insults and 
indignities,” responded her father. “He was, how- 
ever, in constant peril, and to those who bore the 
responsibility of the function he was a source of 
unceasing anxiety. But in spite of the jeers of the 
mob, their crowding and pushing about his car, he 
kept a smiling face like the true gentleman he was. 
Some of the rougher element even went so far as 
to hurl missiles at him. You can imagine how 
worried his friends were for his safety and how 
the directors who had invited him fidgeted. And as 
if this worry were not enough, by and by a fine rain 
began to fall and those persons riding in the open 
coaches, as well as the decorations and the specta- 
tors, got well drenched. Then there were delays 
on the turnouts while one train passed another; 
and as 3 climax to these discouragements, Mr, 


62 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Hickson, a member of Parliament from Liverpool, 
got in the path of an approaching engine, became 
confused and was run over; and although Stephen- 
son himself carried him by train to Liverpool he 
died that evening.” 

“I should call the fete to introduce the steam 
engine into England a most disastrous and forlorn 
one,” remarked Mrs. Tolman. , 

“Well, in reality it was not such a failure as it 
sounds,” replied her husband, “for only those most 
closely connected with it sensed the misfortunes 
that attended it. The greater part of the people 
along the route were good-humored and pleased; 
they marveled at the trains as they passed, cheered 
the Duke and the authorities with him, listened 
with delight to the band, and made a jest of the 
rain. A holiday crowd, you know, is usually quite 
patient. Hence the delays that fretted the guests 
and the officials of the road did not annoy the 
multitudes so vitally.” 

“Poor Stephenson really got some satisfaction 
out of the day then,” sighed Mrs. Tolman. 

“Oh, yes, indeed,” said her husband. “Although 
I fancy the death of Mr. Hickson must have over- 
shadowed his rejoicings. Notwithstanding this, 
however, the railroad proved itself a practical ven- 
ture, which was the main thing. Such slight obsta- 
cles as the terror of the horses and the fact that 
the tunnels into Liverpool were so low that the 
engines had to be detached and the trains hauled 
into the yards by mules could be remedied.” 


STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD 63 

A flicker of humor danced in Mr. Tolman’s 
eyes. 

“And did England begin to build railroads right 
away?” Steve inquired. 

“Yes, and not only England but France also. 
Frenchmen who crossed the Channel took home 
glowing accounts of the novel invention and im- 
mediately the French Government realized that 
that country must also have railroads. But just as 
the conservative element in England had been 
sceptical and blocked Stephenson’s progress — or 
tried to — so a corresponding faction in France did 
all it could to cry down the enterprise. Even those 
who upheld the introduction of the roads advocated 
them for only short distances out of Paris; a long 
trunk route they labeled as an absurdity. Iron 
was too expensive, they argued; furthermore the 
mountains of the country rendered extensive rail- 
roading impossible. France did not need railroads 
anyway. Nevertheless the little group of seers 
who favored the invention persisted and there was 
no stopping the march of which they were the 
heralds. Railroads had come to stay and they 
stayed.” 

“It was a fortunate thing they did, wasn’t it?” 
murmured Doris. 

“A very fortunate thing,” returned Mr. Tolman 
heartily. “Every great invention is usually sug- 
gested by a great need and so it was with this one. 
By 1836 the craze for railroad building swept both 
hemispheres. In England the construction of lines 


64 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

to most out-of-the-way and undesirable places 
were proposed, and the wildest schemes for pro- 
pelling trains suggested; some visionaries even 
tried sails as a medium of locomotion instead of 
steam. Rich and poor rushed to invest their sav- 
ings in railroads and alas, in many cases the mis- 
guided enthusiasts lost every shilling of their 
money in the project. Great business firms failed, 
banking houses were ruined, and thousands of 
workmen were thrown out of employment. In 
consequence a reaction followed and it was years 
before wary investors could again be induced 
to finance a railroad. In the interim both engines 
and coaches underwent improvement, especially 
the third-class carriage which in the early days 
was nothing more than an open freight car and 
exposed its unhappy patrons to snow, rain, and 
freezing weather.” 

“Great Scott!” cried Steve. “I should say there 
was room for improvement if that was the case.” 

“There was indeed,” echoed his father. “In 
fact, it was a long time before travel by train 
became a pleasure. Most of the engines used pitch 
pine or soft coal as a fuel and as there were no 
guards on the smokestacks to prevent it, the smoke, 
soot, and cinders used to blow back from the fun- 
nels and shower the passengers. On the first rail- 
road trip from New York to Albany those sitting 
outside the coaches were compelled to put up 
umbrellas to protect themselves from these 
annoyances.” 


STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD 65 

“Imagine it!” burst out Doris, with a rippling 
laugh. 

“Nor were the umbrellas of any service for 
long,” continued Mr. Tolman, “for the sparks soon 
burned their coverings until nothing but the steel 
ribs remained.” 

“I don’t wonder the trip was not a pleasure,” 
smiled Mrs. Tolman. 

“Yet, in spite of its discomfort, it was a novelty 
and you must not forget that, as I said before, the 
public of that period was a simple and less exacting 
one than is the public of to-day. We make a fright- 
ful fuss if we are jolted, chilled, crowded, delayed, 
or made uncomfortable; but our forefathers 
were a hale and hearty lot — less overworked per- 
haps, less nervous certainly, less indulged. They 
had never known anything better than cold houses, 
draughty and crowded stagecoaches, and stony 
highways — plenty of obstacles, you see, and few 
luxuries. Therefore with naive delight they wel- 
comed one new invention after another, overlook- 
ing its defects and considering themselves greatly 
blessed to have anything as fine. Probably we, 
who are a thousand per cent better off than they, 
do more grumbling over the tiny flaws in the 
mechanism of our lives than they did over the 
mammoth ones.” 

“Oh, come, Dad!” protested Stephen. “Aren’t 
you putting it rather strong?” 

‘*Not a whit too strong, Steve,” Mrs. Tolman 
interrupted. “I believe we are a fussy, pampered, 


66 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

ungrateful generation. It is rather pathetic, too, to 
think it is we who now reap the benefits of all those 
perfected ideas which our ancestors enjoyed only 
in their most primitive beginnings. It seems hardly 
fair that Stephenson, for example, should never 
have seen a modern Pullman. 

“He was spared something, wasn’t he, Dad?” 
chuckled Steve mischievously. 

But Mr. Tolman did not heed the remark. 

“He had the vision,” returned he softly, “the 
joy of seeing the marvel for the first time, im- 
perfect as it was. Perhaps that was compensation 
enough. It is the reward of every inventor. Re- 
member it is no mean privilege to stand upon the 
peak in Darien which Keats pictures.” 


CHAPTER V 

STEVE LEARNS A SAD LESSON 

No more disasters attended the journey and the 
travelers spun swiftly on to Northampton, arriv- 
ing at the old New England town late in the after- 
noon. What a scene of activity the college campus 
presented! Bevies of girls, hatless and in gay- 
colored sweaters, drifted hither and thither, their 
laughter floating through the twilight with musical 
clearness. Occasionally some newcomer would join 
a group and a shout of welcome would hail her 
advent. Although Steve turned away from these 
gushing greetings with masculine scorn neverthe- 
less he was far more interested in the novel picture 
than he would have been willing to admit. More 
than once he caught his eyes following a slender 
figure in white, across whose hair the sunset 
slanted, turning its blowing masses to a glory of 
gold. With what ease and freedom the girl moved! 
And when, as she passed, some one unceremoni- 
ously tossed her a ball and she caught it with swift 
accuracy, his admiration was completely won. 

Steve speculated as to whether she would prove 
to be as pretty at close range as she was at a dis- 
tance and decided not. Distance always brings a 


68 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

glamor with it. However, pretty or not, there was 
no disputing that she was a great favorite for 
every circle of students opened its magic ring at 
her approach and greeted her with a noisy clamor 
of affection. That she held herself with quiet re- 
serve and was less demonstrative than those about 
her did not appear to lessen in the least their re- 
gard for her, and as Stephen watched he registered 
the wager that she was a person of more common 
sense than most girls. 

Until recently it had been his habit to condemn 
the entire sex; but of late he had discovered that 
exceptions might be made to his rule. There were 
girls in the world worth noticing, even some worth 
talking to; and he felt certain that this attractive 
creature in white was one of them. However, it 
was an absurdity to be thinking about her now 
and quite beneath his dignity. But he meant 
sometime, when he could do so in casual fashion, 
to find out from Doris who she was. He had a 
curiosity to know what this person who looked as if 
she could row a boat, swim, and play tennis well, 
was called. Doris was always raving about her 
roommate, Jane Harden. She had said so much 
about her that he fairly detested the sound of her 
name. Now if only Jane Harden were a girl like 
this one, there would be some reason and excuse 
for being enthusiastic over her. To have this guest 
brought home to spend the Christmas holidays 
would be a pleasure to look forward to. How well 
she would skate and how gracefully; and how 


STEVE LEARNS A SAD LESSON 69 

pretty she would be, especially if she had her hat 
off as she had now! 

It was Doris who interrupted his reverie with 
the words: 

“I hate to have you dear people go but I sup- 
pose you will have to. But do just wait long 
enough for me to see if I can’t find Jane somewhere. 
She is crazy to meet my family and will scold me to 
death if I let you get away.” 

“I am afraid we can’t stay but a moment or two, 
dear,” objected Mrs. Tolman. “It is growing late, 
you know, and we must get to the hotel before it 
is too dark.” 

“But I won’t delay you a second, Mother — 
truly, I won’t. I do want you to meet Jane. I’ll 
ask the girls if they have seen her anywhere.” 

“If you get out into that mob they’ll fall all 
over you and you’ll never get back,” growled Steve, 
who was beginning to feel hungry and was none 
too graciously inclined toward the prospective 
stranger. 

“Oh, yes, I will,” laughed Doris as she darted 
away. 

In spite of this sanguine prediction, however, 
she did not return as promptly as she had promised, 
and Mr. Tolman began to fidget uneasily. 

“We really ought to be starting on,” he said at 
last. “Where is that child?” 

“I knew she’d stop to admire everybody’s new 
hat and talk over the whole summer,” grumbled 
Steve scornfully. 


70 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“You are thinking of your dinner, son,” his 
mother put in playfully. 

“You bet I am! I’m hungry as a bear.” 

A pause followed in which visions of a big beef- 
steak with crisply fried potatoes blotted out every 
other picture from Steve’s mind. 

“Perhaps we ought not to have waited,” he 
heard his mother murmur. “But I had not the 
heart to disappoint Doris. She is so fond of Jane 
and has talked so much about her! I had no idea 
it would take her so long to — ” 

“Here she comes!” Mr. Tolman broke in. 

Stephen glanced up. Yes, there was Doris 
hurrying across the grass and beside her, walking 
with the same free and buoyant swing, was the 
girl of the golden hair, — Jane Harden. 

With the same reserve and yet without a shadow 
of self-consciousness she came forward and in 
acknowledgment of the hurried introductions ex- 
tended her hand with a grave smile of welcome; 
but both smile and gesture carried with them a 
sincerity very appealing. When she greeted Steve 
he flushed at being addressed as Mr. Tolman and 
mentally rose six inches in his boots. Yes, she was 
decidedly pretty, far prettier than she had been in 
the distance even. In all his life he had never seen 
a more attractive girl. 

“I hope, Jane, that you are coming home with 
Doris for a visit sometime when your own family 
can spare you,” he heard his mother say. “We all 
should like to have you.” 


STEVE LEARNS A SAD LESSON 71 

“And I should like to come/’ was the simple and 
direct answer. 

“Do plan on it then. Come any time that you 
can arrange to. We should very much enjoy hav- 
ing you, shouldn’t we, Stephen?” 

Stephen, so suddenly appealed to, turned very 
red and answered “Yes” in a tone that seemed to 
come gruffly from way down inside his chest, and 
then to the sound of hasty farewells the car started 
and shot out into the village street and the campus 
with its rainbow-hued occupants was lost to sight. 

“A charming girl, isn’t she?” Mrs. Tolman said 
to her husband. “So natural and unaffected! 
Doris says that she is quite the idol of the college 
and bids fair to be class president. I wish Doris 
would bring her home for the holidays.” 

Inwardly Steve echoed the sentiment but out- 
wardly he preserved silence. He was too human a 
boy to dwell long on thoughts of any girl and soon 
Jane Harden was quite forgotten in the satisfac- 
tion of a steaming dinner and a comfortable bed, 
and the fairy journey of the next day when amid 
a splendor of crimson and gold the glories of 
Jacob’s Ladder and the Mohawk Trail stretched 
before his eyes. 

Within the week the big red car headed for 
Coventry and without a mishap rolled into the 
familiar main street of the town which never had 
seemed dearer than after the interval of absence. 
As the automobile sped past, friendly faces nodded 
from the sidewalks and hands were waved in 


72 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

greeting. Presently his mother called from the 
tonneau : 

“Isn’t that the Taylors’ car, Henry, coming to- 
ward us? If it is do stop, for I want to speak to 
them.” 

Mr. Tolman nodded and slowed down the en- 
gine, at the .same time putting out his hand to 
bring the on-coming car to a standstill. Yes, there 
were the Taylors, and on the front seat beside the 
chauffeur sat “But,” the friend who had been most 
influential in coaxing Stephen into the dilemma of 
the past fortnight. It was Bud, Steve could not 
forget, who had been the first to drop out of the 
car when trouble had befallen and who had led the 
other boys off on foot with him to Torrington. 
The memory of his chum’s treacherous conduct 
still rankled in Steve’s mind. He had not spoken 
to him since. But now here the two boys were 
face to face and unless they were to betray to their 
parents that something was wrong they must meet 
with at least a semblance of cordiality. The ques- 
tion was which of them should be the first to make 
the advance. 

Twice Bud cleared his throat and appeared to be 
on the verge of uttering a greeting when he en- 
countered Stephen’s scowl and lost courage to call 
the customary: “Ah, there, Stevie!” 

And Stephen, feeling that right was on his side 
and being too proud to open the conversation, 
could not bring himself to say: “Hi, Bud!” as he 
always did. 


STEVE LEARNS A SAD LESSON 73 

As a result the schoolmates simply glared at 
each other. 

Fortunately their elders were too much occupied 
with friendly gossip to notice them and it was not 
until the talk shifted abruptly into a channel that 
appalled both boys that their glance met with the 
sympathy of common danger. 

It was Bud’s mother from whose lips the terri- 
fying words innocently fell. 

“Havens ill and you in New York Wednesday!” 
she exclaimed incredulously. “But I certainly 
thought I saw your car turning into the gate that 
very afternoon.” 

“I guess not, my dear,” asserted Mrs. Tolman 
tranquilly. “The car has not been out of the ga- 
rage until now. It must have been somebody else 
you saw.” 

“But it was your car — I am certain of it,” per- 
sisted Mrs. Taylor. 

“Nonsense, Mary!” laughed her husband. “If 
the car has been in the garage for a week how 
could it have been. You probably dreamed it. 
You want a big red car so much yourself that you 
see them in your sleep.” 

“No, I don’t,” protested Mrs. Taylor smiling 
good-humoredly at her husband’s banter. 

“Well, it may have been the Woodworths’,” Mrs. 
Tolman said with soothing inspiration. “They 
have a car like ours and Mrs. Woodworth came 
to call while I was away. I’ll ask the maid when 
I get home,” 


74 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“Y-e-s, it may have been the Woodworths’,” 
admitted Mrs. Taylor reluctantly. It was plain, 
however, that she was unconvinced. “But I could 
have staked my oath that it was your car and 
Steve driving it,” she added carelessly. 

“Steve!” Mr. Tolman ejaculated. 

“Oh, Steve never drives the car,” put in Mrs. 
Tolman quickly. “He is not old enough to have 
a license yet, you know. That proves absolutely 
that you were mistaken. But Stephen has run the 
car now and then when Havens or his father were 
with him and he does very well at it. Some day 
he will be driving it alone, won’t you, son?” 

Bending forward she patted the boy’s shoulder 
affectionately. 

For an instant it seemed to Stephen as if every 
one in both cars must have heard the pound , 
pound , pound of his heart, as if everybody from 
Coventry to Torrington must have heard it. Help- 
lessly he stared at Bud and Bud stared back. No 
words were needed to assure the two that once 
again they were linked together by misdoing as 
they often had been in the past. Bud looked anx- 
iously toward his chum. He was a mischievous, 
happy-go-lucky lad but in his homely, freckled 
face there was a winsome manliness. Whatever 
the scrapes he got into through sheer love of fun 
it was characteristic of him that he was always 
courageous enough to confess to them. This was 
the first inkling he had had that Stephen had not 
acquainted his father with the escapade of the 


STEVE LEARNS A SAD LESSON 75 

previous week and such a course was so at variance 
with his own frank nature that he was aghast. 
Even now he waited, expecting his pal would offer 
the true explanation of the mystery under discus- 
sion. He was ready to bear his share of the blame, 
— bear more than belonged to him if he could 
lighten Steve’s sentence of punishment. 

But the silence remained unbroken and the 
words he expected to hear did not come. A wave 
of surprise swept over his face, surprise followed 
by a growing scorn. It came to him in a flash 
that StephenTolman, the boy he had looked up to 
as a sort of idol, was a coward, a coward! He 
was afraid! It seemed impossible. Why, Steve 
was always in the thick of the football skirmishes, 
never shrinking from the roughness of the game; 
he was a fearless hockey player, a dauntless fighter. 
Coward was the last name one would have thought 
of applying to him. And yet here he sat cowering 
before the just result of his conduct. Bud was dis- 
appointed, ashamed; he turned away his head but 
not before the wretched lad who confronted him 
had caught in his glance the same contemptuous 
expression he had seen in O’Malley’s face. 

Again Stephen was despised and knew it. 

Nevertheless it would not do to betray his secret 
now. He must not show that he was disconcerted. 
At every cost he must brazen out the affair. He 
had gone too far to do otherwise. He wondered 
as he sat there if any one suspected him; if his 
father, whose eye was as keen as that of an eagle, 


76 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

had put together any of the threads of evidence. 
He might be cherishing suspicions this very mo- 
ment. It seemed impossible that he shouldn’t. 
If only he would speak and have it over! Any- 
thing would be better than this suspense and 
uncertainty. 

Mr. Tolman, however, maintained unwonted 
stillness and save for a restless twitching of his 
fingers on the wheel of the car did not move. If, 
thought Steve miserably, he could summon the 
nerve to look up, he would know in a second from 
his father’s face whether he was annoyed or angry. 
At last the situation became unbearable and come 
what might he raised his eyes. To his amazement 
his father was sitting there quite serenely and so 
was everybody else, and the pause that seemed to 
him to stretch into hours had glided off as harm- 
lessly and as naturally as other pauses. Appar- 
ently nobody was thinking about him, at least 
nobody but Bud. With a sigh of relief his tense 
muscles relaxed. He could trust Bud not to 
betray him. Once again he was safe! 


CHAPTER VI 

MR. TOLMAN'S SECOND YARN 

For a day or two it seemed to Stephen that he 
would never cease to be haunted by the shame 
and regret that followed his confiscation of the 
big red touring car, or forget the good resolutions 
he made in consequence; but within an incred- 
ibly short time both considerations were thrust 
into the background by the rush of life’s busy 
current. School and athletics kept him occupied 
so that he had little leisure for thought, and when 
he was in the house his father and mother smiled 
on him as affectionately as before, which did much 
to restore to him his normal poise. Long ago the 
boys had dropped the motor-car episode from their 
memories and even Bud Taylor did not refer to it 
when he and Steve came together to organize the 
hockey team for the approaching matches. 

In the meantime the Thanksgiving holidays 
were drawing near and Mr. Tolman suggested that 
he and Stephen should run over to New York for a 
short visit. With the prospect of so much pleasure 
was it strange the boy ceased to dwell on the un- 
happiness of the past or the possibility of disaster 
in the future? The coming journey to New York 
was, to be sure, no great novelty, for Stephen had 


78 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

often accompanied his father there on business ex- 
cursions; nevertheless such an outing was a treat 
to which he looked forward as a sort of Arabian 
Nights adventure when for a short time he stayed 
at a large hotel, ate whatever food pleased his 
fancy, and went sight-seeing and to innumerable 
“shows” with his father. He Was wont to return 
to Coventry after the holiday with a throng of 
happy memories and many a tale of marvels with 
which to entertain the boys. 

Therefore when he and his father boarded the 
express Thanksgiving week the lad was in the 
highest spirits. 

“Motor-cars are all very well,” observed Mr. 
Tolman, as the porter stowed their luggage away, 
“but on a cold night like this a Pullman car on a 
well-laid track is not to be despised. Eh, son?” 

“I don’t believe that I should want to travel to 
New York in a touring-car at this time of year,”, 
agreed Stephen, smiling. 

“It is getting too late in the season to use an 
open car, anyway,” rejoined his father. “I have 
delayed putting the car up because I have been 
hoping we might have a little more warm weather ; 
but I guess the warm days have gone and the win- 
ter has come to stay now.” 

“But there is no snow yet, Dad.” 

“No. Still it is too chilly to drive with any 
comfort. The Taylors shipped their car off last 
week and when I get home I shall do the same.” 

Stephen looked disappointed. 


MR TOLMAN’S SECOND YARN 79 

“I don’t mind the cold when I’m wrapped up,” 
he ventured. 

“You are not at the wheel, son,” was his father’s 
quick retort. “The man who is has his fingers 
nipped roundly, I can assure you. It is a pity we 
have become so soft and shrink so from discom- 
fort. Think what our forbears endured when 
they went on journeys!” 

“Neither the English stagecoaches nor Stephen- 
son’s railroad could have been very comfortable, 
to judge from your descriptions of them,” laughed 
Steve. 

“Oh, don’t heap all the blame on the English,” 
his father replied. “Our own modes of travel in 
the early days were quite as bad as were those on 
the other side of the water.” 

“I wish you would tell me about the first Amer- 
ican railroads,” said the boy. “I was wondering 
about them the other night.” 

Mr. Tolman settled back in his seat thought- 
fully. 

“America,” he answered presently, “went 
through a pioneer period of railroading not unlike 
England’s. Many strange steam inventions were 
tried in different parts of the country, and many 
fantastic scientific notions put before the public. 
Even previous to Watt’s steam engine Oliver 
Evans had astonished the quiet old city of Philadel- 
phia by driving through its peaceful streets in a 
queer steam vehicle, half carriage and half boat, 
which he had mounted on wheels. Evans was an 


80 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

ingenious fellow, a born inventor if ever there was 
one, who worked out quite a few steam devices, 
some of which Watts later improved and adopted. 
Then in 1812 John Stevens of New York got inter- 
ested in the steam idea and urged the commis- 
sioners of his state to build a railroad between Lake 
Erie and Albany, suggesting that a steam engine 
not unlike the one that propelled the Hudson River 
ferryboats could be used as power for the trains. 
He was enthusiastic over the scheme but the New 
York officials had no faith in the proposition, in- 
sisting that a steam locomotive could never be pro- 
duced that would grip the rails with sufficient ten- 
sion to keep cars on the track or draw a heavy 
load.” 

“They’d better have given the plan a show- 
down,” interrupted Steve grimly. 

“No doubt that is true,” admitted his father. 
“However, it is very easy for us, with our knowl- 
edge of science, to look back and laugh at their 
mistakes. The world was very new in those days 
and probably had we lived at that time and been 
equally ignorant of railroads and engines we should 
have been just as cautious and unbelieving. The 
railroad was still a young invention, you must re- 
member, and to many persons it seemed a rather 
mad, uncertain enterprise.” 

“When was the first American railroad built?” 
inquired the lad. 

“If by a railroad you mean something which 
moved along rails like a tramcar, the first such 


MR. TOLMAN’S SECOND YARN 81 

road was built at Quincy, Mass., in 1826; but it was 
not a steam railroad. It was merely a train of cars 
drawn by horses along a track that spanned a series 
of stone ties. Nor was it very extensive in length. 
In fact, it was only three miles long and probably 
would not have been built at all if the question had 
not arisen as to how the heavy blocks of granite 
necessary for the construction of Bunker Hill mon- 
ument were to be carried from the quarries to the 
Neponset River, the point from which they were 
to be shipped to Charlestown. Bryant, the builder 
of the road, had heard of Stephenson’s successful 
use of tracks at the Newcastle coal mines and saw 
no reason why a road of similar pattern could 
not be laid from the quarries to the ship landing. 
If such a plan could be worked out, he argued, it 
would be a great saving of time and labor. Accord- 
ingly the railroad was built at a cost of more than 
ten thousand dollars a mile and it unquestionably 
performed the service required of it even if it did 
necessitate the expenditure of a good deal of 
money. Since the grade sloped toward the river 
the heavily loaded cars moved down the tracks very 
easily and as they were empty on their return the 
ascent was made with equal ease. All the year 
round this quaint railroad was in constant use, a 
snowplow being attached to the front car in winter 
to clear the deep snow from the tracks.” 

“I suppose that was the first railroad snowplow, 
too,” observed Stephen. 

“I suppose it was,” his father agreed. “For 


82 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

some time afterward this old road with its granite 
ties was the model from which American engineers 
took their inspiration, it being many years before 
railroad builders realized that wooden ties were 
more flexible and made a better, even though less 
durable roadbed.” 

“Were any more railroads like the Quincy road 
built in America?” questioned Steve. 

“Yes, a railroad very much like it was built in 
the Pennsylvania mining country to transport coal 
from the mines at Summit down to the Lehigh 
Valley for shipment. An amusing story is told 
of this railroad, too. It extended down the moun- 
tainside in a series of sharp inclines between which 
lay long stretches of level ground. Now you know 
when you coast downhill your speed will give you 
sufficient impetus to carry you quite a way on a 
flat road before you come to a stop. So it was 
with this railroad. But the force the cars gained 
on the hillside could not carry them entirely 
across these long levels, and therefore platform 
cars were built on which a number of mules could 
be transported and later harnessed to the cars to 
pull them across the flat stretches. At the end of 
each level the mules would be taken aboard again 
and carried down to the next one, where they 
were once more harnessed to the cars. Now the 
tale goes that to the chagrin of the railroad people 
the mules soon grew to enjoy riding so much that 
they had no mind to get out and walk when the 
level places were reached and it became almost 


MR. TOLMAN’S SECOND YARN 83 

impossible to make them. All of which proves 
the theory I advanced before — that too much 
luxury is not good for any of us and will even spoil 
a perfectly good mule.” 

Steve chuckled in response 

“Fm afraid with railroads like these America 
did not make much progress,” he said. 

“No very rapid strides,” owned his father. 
“Nevertheless men were constantly hammering 
away at the railroad idea. In out-of-the-way cor- 
ners of the country were many persons who had 
faith that somehow, they knew not how, the rail- 
road would in time become a practical agency of 
locomotion. When the Rainhill contest of engines 
took place in England before the opening of the 
Liverpool-Manchester road, and Stephenson car- 
ried off the prize, Horatio Allen, one of the en- 
gineers of the Delaware and Hudson Canal Com- 
pany, was sent over to examine the locomotives 
competing and if possible buy one for a new rail- 
road they hoped to put into operation. Unluckily 
none of the engines were for sale but he was able 
to purchase at Stourbridge a steam locomotive and 
this he shipped to New York. It reached there 
in 1829 — a ridiculous little engine weighing only 
seven tons. Before its arrival a track of hemlock 
rails fastened to hemlock ties had been laid and 
as the Lackawanna River lay directly in the path 
of the proposed road a wooden trestle about a 
hundred feet high had been built across the river. 
This trestle was of very frail construction and 


84 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

calculated to sustain only a four-ton engine and 
therefore when the seven- ton locomotive from 
Stourbridge arrived and was found to weigh nearly 
double that specification there was great conster- 
nation.” 

“Did they tear the trestle down and build an- 
other?” asked Steve with much interest. 

Mr. Tolman did not heed the question. 

“Now in addition to the disconcerting size of 
the engine,” he continued, “the wooden rails which 
had been laid during the previous season had 
warped with the snows and were in anything but 
desirable condition. So altogether the prospect 
of trying out the enterprise, on which a good deal 
of money had already been spent, was not alone 
disheartening but perilous.” 

“The inspectors or somebody else would have 
put an end to such a crazy scheme jolly quick if 
it had been in our day, wouldn’t they?” grinned 
the boy. 

“Yes, nobody could get very far with anything 
so unsafe now,” his father responded. “But all 
this happened before the era of inspectors, con- 
struction laws, or the Safety First slogan. Hence 
no one interfered with Horatio Allen. If he chose 
to break his neck and the necks of many others 
as well he was free to do so. Therefore, nothing 
daunted, he got up steam in his baby engine, 
which was the more absurd for having painted at 
its front a fierce red lion, and off he started — 
along his hemlock railroad. The frail bridge 


MR. TOLMAN’S SECOND YARN 85 

swayed and bent as the locomotive rumbled over 
it but by sheer miracle it did not give way and 
Allen reached the other side without being plunged 
to the bottom of the river.” 

Steve drew a long breath of relief. 

“Did they go on using the railroad after that?” 
he asked. 

His father shook his head. 

“No,” he replied. “Although every one agreed 
that the demonstration was a success the wooden 
rails were not durable enough to last long and the 
company was not rich enough to replace them with 
metal ones. Therefore, in spite of Allen’s pleas 
and his wonderful exhibition of courage, the road 
fell into disuse, the engine was taken apart, and 
the enterprise abandoned.” 

“What a pity!” 

“Yes, it was, for had New York persevered in 
this undertaking the railroad might have made 
its advent in the United States much sooner than 
it did. As it was, once again, like a meteor, the 
experiment flashed into sight and disappeared with 
success well within reach.” 

“And who was the next promoter?” 

“Peter Cooper was the next experimenter of 
note,” Mr. Tolman answered, “and his adventure 
with railroading was entertaining, too. He lived 
in Baltimore and being of a commercial trend of 
mind he decided that if a railroad could be built 
through the Potomac Valley and across the Alle- 
ghany Mountains it might win back for his state 


86 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

the trade that was rapidly being snatched away by 
the Erie and Pennsylvania Canal. With this idea 
in mind Cooper built thirteen miles of track and 
after experimenting with a sort of tram-car and 
finding it a failure he had a car made that should 
be propelled by sails.” 

“Sails!” gasped Steve. 

His father smiled at his astonishment. 

“Yes, sails!” he repeated. “Into this strangely 
equipped vehicle he invited some of the editors 
of the Baltimore papers, and little sensing what 
was before them the party set forth on its ex- 
cursion.” 

“Did the car go?” 

“Oh, it went all right!” chuckled Mr. Tolman. 
“The trouble was not with its going. The 
difficulty was that as it flew along the rails a cow 
suddenly loomed in its pathway and as she did not 
move out of the way of the approaching car 
she and the railroad pioneers came into collision. 
With a crash the car toppled over and the editors, 
together with the enraged Peter Cooper, were 
thrown out into the mud. Of course the affair 
caused the public no end of laughter but to Cooper 
and his guests it proved convincingly that sails 
were not a desirable substitute for steam power.” 

“I suppose Cooper then went to work to build 
some other kind of a railroad,” mused Steve. 

“That is exactly what he did,” was the rejoinder. 
“He did not, however, do this deliberately but 
rather fell into a dilemma that left him no other 


MR. TOLMAN’S SECOND YARN 87 

choice. You see a group of men coaxed him to 
buy some land through which it was expected the 
new Baltimore and Ohio Railroad was to pass. 
These prospectors figured that as the road was 
already started and a portion of the wooden track 
laid the railroad was a sure thing, and by selling 
their land to the railroad authorities they would 
be enabled to turn quite a fortune for themselves. 
In all good faith Cooper had joined the company 
and then, after discovering that the railroad men 
had apparently abandoned their plan to build, in 
dastardly fashion, one after another of the pro- 
moters wriggled out of the enterprise and left poor 
Peter Cooper with a large part of his money tied 
up in a worthless, partially constructed railroad.” 

“What a rotten trick!” cried Steve. 

“Yes; and yet perhaps Cooper deserved a little 
chastisement,” smiled Mr. Tolman. “Instead of 
making money out of other people as he had in- 
tended — ” 

“He got stung himself!” burst out the boy. 

“Practically so, yes,” was the reply. “Well, at 
any rate, there he was and if he was ever to get 
back any of his fortune he must demonstrate that 
he had profound faith in the partly constructed 
railroad. Accordingly he bought a small engine 
weighing about a ton — ” 

“One ton!” 

“So small that it was christened the ‘Tom 
Thumb.’ He now had his wooden rails and his 
pygmy engine but was confronted by still another 


88 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

perplexity. The railroad must pass a very abrupt 
curve, it was unavoidable that it should do so — 
a curve so dangerous that everybody who saw it 
predicted that to round it without the engine 
jumping the track and derailing the cars behind 
would be impossible. Poor Peter Cooper faced a 
very discouraging problem. There was no gainsay- 
ing that the curve was a bad one ; moreover, his lo- 
comotive was not so perfect a product as he might 
have wished. It had been built under his direction 
and consisted of the wee engine he had bought in 
New York connected with an iron boiler about the 
size of an ordinary tin wash boiler; and as no 
iron piping was made in America at this time 
Cooper had taken some old steel musket barrels as 
a substitute for tubing. With this crude affair 
he was determined to convince the public that a 
steam railroad was a workable proposition.” 

“He had a nerve!” 

“It took nerve to live and accomplish anything 
in those days,” returned Mr. Tolman. “In the 
first place few persons had fortunes large enough 
to back big undertakings; and in addition America 
was still such a young country that it had not begun 
to produce the materials needed by inventors for 
furthering any very extensive projects. In fact 
the world of progress was, as Kipling says, Very 
new and all. 5 Hence human ingenuity had to make 
what was at hand answer the required purpose, 
and as a result Peter Cooper’s Tom Thumb engine, 
with its small iron boiler and its gun-barrel tubing, 


MR. TOLMAN’S SECOND YARN 89 

was set upon the wooden track, and an open car 
(a sort of box on wheels with seats in it) was 
fastened to it. Into this primitive conveyance the 
guests invited for the occasion clambered. Ahead 
lay the forbidding curve. Stephenson, the English 
engineer, had already stated mathematically the 
extreme figure at which a curve could be taken and 
the locomotive still remain on the track, and Peter 
Cooper was well aware that the curve he must 
make was a far worse one. However, it would 
never do for him to betray that he had any mis- 
givings. Therefore, together with his guests, he 
set out on his eventful trip which was either to 
demolish them all, or convince the dignitaries of 
the railroad company that not only was a steam 
railroad practical but that the Baltimore and Ohio 
Road was a property valuable enough to be backed 
by capital.” 

Steve leaned forward, listening eagerly to the 
story. 

“Slowly the little engine started, and nearer and 
nearer came the terrible curve. The train was now 
running at fifteen miles an hour, a speed almost 
unbelievable to the simple souls of that time. 
Round the curve it went in safety, increasing its 
velocity to eighteen miles an hour. The railroad 
officials who were Cooper’s guests were frantic with 
enthusiasm. One man produced paper and pencil 
and begged those present to write their names, 
just to prove that it was possible to write even 
when flying along at such a meteoric rate of speed. 


90 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Another man jotted down a few sentences to dem- 
onstrate that to think and write connected phrases 
were things that could be done, in spite of the fact 
that one was dashing through space with this un- 
earthly rapidity.” 

“So the railroad men were converted, were they ? ” 

“They were more than converted; they were 
exultant,” said his father. “Of course it was some 
time after this before the Baltimore and Ohio 
Railroad became a reality. Capital had to be 
raised and the project stably launched.” 

“Oh, then this was not the first railroad in the 
country, after all,” observed the boy in a disap- 
pointed tone. 

“No. South Carolina boasts the first regular 
passenger locomotive propelled by steam,” re- 
turned Mr. Tolman. “This road ran from Charles- 
ton to Hamburg and although a charter was ob- 
tained for it in 1827 it took all the first year to lay 
six miles of track. In fact it was not until 1830 
that the railroad began to be operated to any ex- 
tent. When it was, a locomotive, every part of 
which had been produced in this country, was em- 
ployed to draw the trains. This was the first steam 
locomotive of American make in history. It was 
dubbed ‘The Best Friend’ and, like the engines 
that had preceded it, had a series of interesting 
adventures. Since it was the only locomotive in 
the possession of the road and was in use all day 
any repairs on the hard- worked object had to be 
made at night,” 


MR. TOLMAN’S SECOND YARN 91 

“Humph!” ejaculated Stephen. 

“Nevertheless The Best Friend’ might have 
gone on its way prosperously had it not been for 
the ignorance of those who ran it. The engineer, 
to be sure, understood more or less about a steam 
locomotive although he was none too wise; but 
the fireman, unfortunately, understood next to 
nothing, and one day, on being left alone in the 
cab and seeing the steam escaping from the safety 
valve, he conceived the notion that a leak was 
causing unnecessary waste. Therefore he securely 
screwed up the space through which the steam 
had been issuing, and to make prevention more 
certain he himself, a large and heavy man, sat 
down on the escape valve.” 

“And presto!” exclaimed Steve, rubbing his 
hands. 

“Exactly so! Presto, indeed! Figuratively 
speaking, he blew sky-high and The Best Friend’ 
with him,” replied Mr. Tolman. “It was an un- 
fortunate happening, too, for people were still ill- 
informed about the uses of steam and very nervous 
about its mysterious power and this accident only 
served to make them more so. For some time 
afterward many persons refused to patronize the 
railroad in spite of all the authorities could do to 
soothe them. In time, however, the public calmed 
down, although in order to reassure them it was 
found necessary to put a car heaped with bales of 
cotton between them and the engine, not only to 
conceal the monster from their view but also to 


92 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

convince them that it was some distance away. 
Whether they also had a vague notion that in case 
they went skyward the cotton might soften their 
fall when they came down, I do not know.” 

“Railroading certainly had its troubles, didn’t 
it?” Steve commented with amusement. 

“It certainly had, especially in our own country,” 
was the reply. “In England Stephenson and other 
experimenters like him had materials at hand which 
to some extent served their purpose; moreover, 
thanks to Watt and other inventors, there were 
definite scientific ideas to work from. But in 
America the successful railroad which might serve 
as a model was unknown. Therefore for some 
time English engines continued to be shipped across 
the sea, and even then it was a long time before 
our American engineers understood much about 
their mechanism. Only by means of repeated ex- 
periments, first in one part of the country and then 
in another, did our American railroads, so marvel- 
ous in their construction, come into being.” 

Mr. Tolman paused a moment, yawned, and 
then rose and beckoned to the porter. 

“We still have much to perfect in our modern 
railroad, however,” he said with a touch of humor. 
“The sleeping car, for example, is an abomination, 
as you are speedily to have proved to you. Here, 
porter! We’d like these berths made up. I guess 
we’d better turn in now, son. You have had 
enough railroading for one day and are tired. 
You must get a rest and be in the pink of condition 


MR. TOLMAN’S SECOND YARN 93 

to-morrow for, remember, you are going to wake 
up in New York.” 

“If it will make to-morrow come any quicker I 
am quite ready to go to bed,” retorted Stephen, 
with a sleepy smile. 


1 


CHAPTER VII 

A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 

The next morning, when Steve woke to the 
swaying of the train and a drowsy sense of con- 
fusion and smoke, he could not for an instant think 
where he was; but it did not take long for him 
to open his eyes, recollect the happenings of the 
previous day, smile with satisfaction, and hurriedly 
wriggle into his clothes. 

Already he could hear his father stirring in the 
berth below and presently the elder man called: 

“We shall be in New York in half-an-hour, son, 
so get your traps packed up. How did you sleep?” 

“Sound as a top!” 

“That is fine ! I was afraid you might not rest 
very well. As I observed last night, a sleeping car 
is not all that it might be. The day will come 
when it will have to be improved. However, since 
it gets us to New York safely and economizes 
hours of day travel, it is a blessing for which we 
should be grateful.” 

As he spoke he moved into the aisle and helped 
the boy down from his perch; they then sought 
out a distant seat where they dropped down and 
watched the rapidly passing landscape. 


A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 95 

“I have been thinking, as I was dressing, of the 
story you told me last night about our American 
railroads/’ said the lad. “It surprised me a good 
deal to hear that the South took the lead over the 
North in the introduction of the steam locomo- 
tive.” 

Mr. Tolman smiled into the eager face. 

“While it is true that South Carolina took the 
initiative in railroading for a short time the South 
did not remain long in the ascendency,” he an- 
swered, “for the third steam locomotive put into 
actual passenger service was built at Albany. This 
city, because of its geographical position, was a 
great stagecoach center, having lines that radiated 
from it into the interior in almost every direction. 
And not only was it an important coaching rendez- 
vous but as it was also a leading commercial tribu- 
tary of New York the Mohawk and Hudson Rail- 
road had built a short track between Albany and 
Schenectady and supplied it with cars propelled by 
horse power. Now in 1831 the company decided 
to transform this road into a steam railroad 
and to this end ordered a steam locomotive called 
the ‘DeWitt Clinton’ to be constructed at West 
Point with the aim of demonstrating to the north- 
ern States the advantages of steam transportation. 
You can imagine the excitement this announce- 
ment caused. Think, if you had never seen a 
steam engine, how eager you would be to behold 
the wonder. These olden time New Yorkers felt 
precisely the same way. Although the route was 


96 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

only sixteen miles long the innovation was such a 
novel and tremendous one that all along the way 
crowds of spectators assembled to watch the pass- 
ing of the magic train. At the starting point near 
the Hudson there was a dense throng of curious 
onlookers who gathered to see for the first time 
in all their lives the steam locomotive and its bri- 
gade of coaches, — for in those days people never 
spoke of a train of cars; a group of railroad car- 
riages was always known as a brigade, and the 
term coach was, and in many cases still is applied 
to the cars. This train that created so much in- 
terest was practically like Stephenson’s English 
trains, being made up of a small locomotive, a 
tender, and two carriages constructed by fastening 
stagecoach bodies on top of railroad trucks. Stout 
iron chains held these vehicles together — a prim- 
itive, and as it subsequently proved, a very im- 
practical method of coupling.” 

“It must have been a funny enough train!” 
Steve exclaimed. 

“I doubt if it appeared so to the people of that 
time,” his father returned, “for since the audience 
of that period had nothing with which to compare 
it, it probably seemed quite the ordinary thing. 
Was it not like the railroad trains used in England? 
How was America to know anything different? 
Yes, I am sure the ‘DeWitt Clinton’ was consid- 
ered a very grand affair indeed, even though it was 
only a small engine without a cab, and had barely 
enough platform for the engineer to stand upon 


A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 97 

while he drove the engine and fed the pitch-pine 
logs into the furnace.” 

“How many people did the train hold?” inquired 
Steve, with growing curiosity. 

“Each coach carried six persons inside and two 
outside,” was Mr. Tolman’s reply, “and on this 
first eventful trip not quite enough adventurous 
souls could be found to fill the seats. Perhaps 
could the unwary passengers who did go have fore- 
seen the discomforts ahead of them there would 
have been fewer yet. But often ignorance is bliss. 
It certainly was so in this case for in high feather 
the fortunate ones took their places, the envied of 
many a beholder.” 

“What happened?” asked the boy eagerly. “Was 
the trip a success?” 

“That depends on what you mean by success,” 
laughed his father. “If you are asking whether 
the passengers arrived safely at Schenectady I can 
assure you that they did ; but if you wish to know 
whether the journey was a comfortable one, and 
likely to convert the stranger to steam travel, that 
is quite another matter. The description of the 
excursion which history has handed down to us is 
very naive. In the first place the pitch-pine fuel 
sent a smudge of smoke and cinders back over all 
the passengers and if it did not entirely choke them 
it at least encrusted them thickly with dirt, par- 
ticularly the ones who sat outside. The umbrellas 
they opened to protect themselves were soon de- 
molished, their coverings being blown away or 


g8 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

burned up by the sparks. In fact, it was only by 
continual alertness that the clothing of the venture- 
some travelers was not ignited. In the meantime 
those inside the coaches fared little better, for as 
the coaches were without springs and the track was 
none too skilfully laid, the jolting of the cars all 
but sent the heads of the passengers through the 
roof of the coaches. Added to this the train pro- 
ceeded in a series of jerks that wrenched the chains 
and banged one coach into another with such vio- 
lence that those outside were in danger of being 
hurled down upon the track, and those inside were 
tossed hither and thither from seat to seat. You 
will easily comprehend that the outing was not one 
of unalloyed pleasure.” 

The boy laughed heartily. 

“Of course/’ went on Mr. Tolman, “there was 
no help for anybody until the first stopping place 
was reached; but when the engine slowed down 
and the grimy, almost unrecognizable pilgrims had 
a chance to catch their breath, something had to 
be done by way of a remedy. The remedy for- 
tunately was near at hand and consisted of nothing 
very difficult. Some of the more enterprising of 
the company leaped out and tore the rails from a 
nearby fence and after stretching the coupling 
chains taut, they bound them to the wooden 
boards. In this way the coaches were kept apart 
and the silk hats of the dignitaries who had been 
invited to participate in the opening of the road 
rescued from total annihilation.” 


A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 99 

‘Til bet everybody was glad to disembark at 
Schenectady/’ declared Stephen. 

‘Til wager they were! They must have been 
exhausted from being jounced and jostled about. 
Nevertheless the novelty of the adventure prob- 
ably brought its own compensations, and they were 
doubtless diverted from their woes by the sight of 
the cheering and envious spectators, the terrified 
horses, and the open-mouthed children that greeted 
them wherever they went.” 

“But the promoters could hardly expect the pub- 
lic to be very keen for a steam railroad after such 
an exhibition,” reflected Steve. 

“Fortunately our forefathers were not as critical 
as you,” said his father, “and in consequence the 
coach line from Albany to Schenectady was 
speedily supplanted by a steam railroad, as were 
the various coach lines into the interior of the 
State. As a result hundreds of broken-down coach 
horses were turned out to pasture, a merciful thing. 
Gradually a series of short steam railway lines were 
constructed from one end of the State to the other, 
until in 1851 these were joined together to make 
a continuous route to Lake Erie. Perhaps we have 
only scant appreciation of the revolution that came 
with this advance in transportation. It meant the 
beginning of travel and commerce between the 
eastern States and those in the interior of the coun- 
try; it also meant the speedy shipment of eastern 
products to the West, where they were greatly 
needed, and the reception of western commodities 


100 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

in the East. But more than all this, it signified a 
bond of fellowship between the scattered inhabi- 
tants of the same vast country who up to this time 
had been almost total strangers to one another, 
and was a mighty stride in the direction of national 
loyalty and sympathy. Therefore it was entirely 
seemly that Millard Fillmore, then President of the 
United States, and Daniel Webster, the Secretary 
of State, should be honored guests at the cele- 
bration that attended the opening of the rail- 
road.” 

“Did the road reach no farther than Lake Erie?” 
asked Stephen. 

“Not at first,” replied his father. “From that 
point commerce was carried on by means of ships 
on the Great Lakes. But in time western railroad 
companies began to build short stretches of track 
which later on they joined together as the other 
railroad builders had done.” 

“Did the line go all the way across the country?” 

“Oh, no, indeed. Our transcontinental railroads 
were a mighty project in themselves and their story 
is a romance which I will tell you some other time. 
Before such stupendous enterprises could be re- 
alities, our young, young country had a vast 
deal of growing to do, and its infant railroads and 
engineering methods had to be greatly improved. 
So long as we still built roads where the rails were 
liable to come up through the floor and injure the 
passengers, and where the tracks were not strongly 
enough constructed to resist floods and freshets, 


IOI 


A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 

our steam locomotion could not expect any uni- 
versal degree of popularity.” 

“I don’t suppose, though, that the cows con- 
tinued to tip the cars over and turn the passengers 
out into the dirt as they did in the days of Peter 
Cooper,” mused Steve thoughtfully. 

“They may not have derailed the trains,” his 
father replied quite seriously, “but they often did 
delay them. Nor could the passengers be blamed 
for finding fault with the unheated cars, or the fact 
that sometimes, when it snowed hard, the engineer 
ran his engine under cover and refused to go on, 
leaving those on the train the choice of staying 
where they were until the storm abated or going on 
foot to their destination.” 

“Not really!” 

“Yes, indeed. Such things happened quite fre- 
quently. Then there are stories of terrible gales 
when the snow piled up on the track until the en- 
gine had to be dug out, for snow plows did not keep 
the tracks clear then as they do now; nor was it 
an uncommon thing for the mud from the spring 
washouts to submerge the rails, in which case 
the engines had to be pulled out of the mire by 
oxen. In fact, at certain seasons of the year some 
trains carried oxen for this very purpose. For you 
must remember that the engines of that date were 
not powerful enough to make progress through 
mud, snow, or against fierce head winds. Often a 
strong gale would delay them for hours or bring 
them to a standstill altogether.” 


102 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“Well, I guess it is no wonder we were not 
equipped to build a transcontinental road under 
such conditions,” said the lad, with a quiet smile. 

“Oh, these defects were only a minor part of our 
railroad tribulations,” responded his father. “For 
example, when Pennsylvania started her first rail- 
road the year after the line between New York and 
Schenectady was laid, there was a fresh chapter 
of obstacles. Strangely enough, the locomotive, 
‘Old Ironsides,’ was built by Mr. M. W. Baldwin, 
whose name has since become celebrated as the 
founder of the Baldwin Locomotive Works. In 
1832, however, the Baldwin locomotive was quite 
a different product from the present-day magnifi- 
cently constructed steam engine. This initial at- 
tempt at locomotive building was a queer little 
engine with wheels so light that unless there was 
plenty of ballast aboard it was impossible to keep 
it on the track; and besides that, the poor wee 
thing could not get up steam enough to start itself 
and in consequence Mr. Baldwin and some of his 
machinists were obliged to give it a violent push 
whenever it set out and then leap aboard when it 
was under way in order to weigh it down and keep 
it on the track.” 

“Imagine having to hold an engine down!” 
ejaculated Steve, with amusement. 

“The story simply goes to prove how much in 
the making locomotives really were,” Mr. Tolman 
said. “And not only did this toy engine have to 
be started by a friendly push, but it was too feeble 


A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 103 

to generate steam fast enough to keep itself going 
after it was once on its way. Therefore every now 
and then the power would give out and Mr. Bald- 
win and his men would be forced to get out and 
run along beside the train, pushing it as they went 
that it might keep up its momentum until a supply 
of steam could again be acquired. Can you ask 
for anything more primitive than that?” 

“It certainly makes one realize the progress lo- 
comotive builders have made,” the boy replied, 
with gravity. 

“It certainly does,” agreed his father. “Think 
how Baldwin and his men must have struggled first 
with one difficulty and then with another; think 
how they must have experimented and worked to 
perfect the tiny engine with which they began ! It 
was the conquering of this multitude of defects 
that gave to the world the intricate, exquisitely 
made machine which at this very minute is pulling 
you and me into New York.” 

There was an interval of silence during which 
Stephen glanced out at the flying panorama framed 
by the window. 

“Where was New England all this time?” de- 
manded he, with jealous concern. “Didn’t Massa- 
chusetts do anything except build the old granite 
road at Quincy?” 

“Railroads, for various reasons, were not pop- 
ular in Massachusetts,” returned his father. “As 
usual New England was conservative and was 
therefore slow in waking up to the importance of 


104 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

steam transportation. Boston was on the coast, 
you see, and had its ships as well as the canal boats 
that connected the city with the manufacturing 
districts of the Merrimac. Therefore, although the 
question of building railroads was agitated in 1819 
nothing was done about the matter. As was nat- 
ural the canal company opposed the venture, and 
there was little enthusiasm elsewhere concerning 
a project that demanded a great outlay of money 
with only scant guarantee that any of it would 
ever come back to the capitalists who advanced it. 
Moreover, the public in general was sceptical about 
railroads or else totally uninterested in them. And 
even ha,d a railroad been built at this time it would 
not have been a steam road for it was proposed to 
propel the cars by horse power just as those at 
Quincy had been.” 

“Oh!” interjected Steve scornfully. “They 
might at least have tried steam.” 

“People had little faith in it,” explained Mr. Tol- 
man. “Those who had the faith lacked the money 
to back the enterprise, and those who had the 
money lacked the faith. If a company could have 
gone ahead and built a steam railroad that was an 
unquestioned success many persons would un- 
doubtedly have been convinced of its value and 
been willing to put capital into it; but as matters 
stood, there was so much antagonism against the 
undertaking that nobody cared to launch the ven- 
ture. There were many business men who hon- 
estly regarded a steam railroad as a menace to 


A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 105 

property and so strong was this feeling that in 
1824 the town of Dorchester, a village situated a 
short distance from Boston, actually took legal 
measures to prevent any railroad from passing 
through its territory.” 

“They needn’t have been so fussed,” said 
Stephen, with a grin. “Railroads weren’t plenty 
enough to worry them!” 

“Oh, the Quincy road was not the only railroad 
in Massachusetts,” his father asserted quickly, 
“for in spite of opposition a railroad to Lowell, 
modeled to some extent after the old granite road, 
had been built. This railroad was constructed on 
stone ties, as the one at Quincy had been; for al- 
though such construction was much more costly 
it was thought at the time to be far more durable. 
Several years afterward, when experience had 
demonstrated that wood possessed more give, and 
that a hard, unyielding roadbed only creates jar, 
the granite ties that had cost so much were taken 
up and replaced by wooden ones.” 

“What a shame!” 

“Thus do we live and learn,” said his father 
whimsically. “Our blunders are often very ex- 
pensive. The only redeeming thing about them is 
that we pass our experience on to others and save 
them from tumbling into the same pit. Thus 
it was with the early railroad builders. When the 
Boston and Providence Road was constructed this 
mistake was not repeated and a flexible wooden 
road-bed was laid. In the meantime a short steam 


106 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

railroad line had been built from Boston to New- 
ton, a distance of seven miles, and gradually the 
road to this suburb was lengthened until it ex- 
tended first to Natick and afterward to Worcester, 
a span of forty-four miles. Over this road, during 
fine weather, three trains ran daily ; in winter there 
were but two. I presume nothing simpler or less 
pretentious could have been found than this early 
railroad whose trains were started at the ringing 
of a bell hung on a near-by tree. Although it took 
three hours to make a trip now made in one, the 
journey was considered very speedy, and unques- 
tionably it was if travelers had to cover the dis- 
tance by stagecoach. When we consider that in 
1834 it took freight the best part of a week to get 
to Boston by wagons a three-hour trip becomes a 
miracle.” 

“I suppose there was not so much freight in 
those days anyway,” Steve speculated. 

“Fortunately not. People had less money and 
less leisure to travel, and therefore there were not 
so many trunks to be carried; I am not sure, too, 
but the frugal Americans of that day had fewer 
clothes to take with them when they did go. Then, 
as each town or district was of necessity more or 
less isolated, people knew fewer persons outside 
of their own communities, did a less extensive busi- 
ness, and had less incentive to go a-visiting. 
Therefore, although the Boston and Worcester 
Railroad could boast only two baggage cars (or 
burthen cars, as they were called), the supply was 


A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 107 

sufficient, which was fortunate, especially since 
the freight house in Boston was only large enough 
to shelter these two.” 

“And out of all this grew the Boston and Albany 
Railroad?” questioned the boy. 

“Yes, although it was not until 1841, about eight 
years later, that the line was extended to New 
York State. By that time tracks had been laid 
through the Berkshire hills, opening up the western 
part of Massachusetts. The story of that first mo- 
mentous fifteen-hour journey of the Boston officials 
to the New York capital, where they were wel- 
comed and entertained by the Albany dignitaries, 
is picturesque reading indeed. One of the party 
who set out from Boston on that memorable day 
carried with him some spermaceti candles which on 
the delegates’ arrival were burned with great cere- 
mony at the evening dinner.” 

“I suppose it seemed a wonderful thing to reach 
Albany in fifteen hours,” remarked Steve. 

“It was like a fairy tale,” his father answered. 
“To estimate the marvel to the full you must think 
how long it would have taken to drive the distance, 
or make the journey by water. Therefore the Bos- 
ton officials burned their spermaceti candles in 
triumph ; and the next day, when the Albany hosts 
returned to Boston with their guests, they sym- 
bolized the onrush of the world’s progress by bring- 
ing with them a barrel of flour which had been cut, 
threshed, and ground only two days before, and 
put into a wooden barrel made from a tree which 


108 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

was cut down, sawed, and put together while the 
flour was being ground. This does not seem to us 
anything very astounding but it was a feat to stop 
the breath in those days.” 

“And what did they do with the flour?” 

“Oh, that evening when they reached Boston 
the flour was made into some sort of bread which 
was served at the dinner the Boston men gave to 
their visitors.” 

“I wonder what they would have said if some- 
body had told them then that sometime people 
would be going from Boston to New York in five 
hours?” the lad observed. 

“I presume they would not have believed it,” 
was the reply. “Nor would they have been able to 
credit tales of the great numbers of persons who 
would constantly be traveling between these two 
great cities. At that time so few people made the 
trip that it was very easy to keep track of them; 
and that they might be identified in case of acci- 
dent the company retained a list of those who went 
on the trains. At first this rule worked very well, 
the passengers being carefully tabulated, together 
with their place of residence; but later, when 
traffic began to increase and employees began to 
have more to do, those whose duty it was to make 
out these lists became hurried and careless and in 
the old railroad annals we read such entries as 
these: 

“ Woman in green bonnet ; boy; stranger; man 
with side whiskers / etc.” 


A HOLIDAY JOURNEY 109 

A peal of laughter broke from Stephen. 

“Railroad officials would have some job to list 
passengers now, wouldn’t they?” he said. “We 
should all just have to wear identification tags as 
the men did during the War.” 

His father acquisced whimsically. 

“I have sometimes feared we might have to come 
to that, anyway,” he replied. “With the sky popu- 
lated with aeroplanes and the streets filled with 
automobiles man stands little chance in these days 
of preserving either his supremacy or his identity. 
When we get on Fifth Avenue to-day you see if 
you do not agree with me,” he added, as the train 
pulled into the big station. 


CHAPTER VIII 

NEW YORK AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE 

It took no very long interval to prove that there 
was some foundation for Mr. Tolman’s last asser- 
tion, for within a short time the travelers were 
standing on Fifth Avenue amid the rush of traffic, 
and feeling of as little importance as dwarfs in a 
giant’s country. The roar of the mighty city, its 
bustle and confusion, were both exhilarating and 
terrifying. They had left their luggage at the 
hotel and now, while Steve’s father went to meet 
a business appointment, the boy was to take a ride 
up the Avenue on one of the busses, a diversion of 
which he never tired. To sit on top and look down 
on the throng in the streets was always novel and 
entertaining to one who passed his days in a quiet 
New England town. Therefore he stopped one of 
the moving vehicles and in great good humor bade 
his father good-by; and feeling very self-sufficient 
to be touring New York by himself, clambered 
eagerly up to a seat. 

There were few passengers on the top of the 
coach for the chill of early morning still lingered 
in the air; but before they reached Riverside Drive 
a man with a bright, ruddy countenance and iron- 


WHAT HAPPENED IN NEW YORK hi 

grey hair hailed the bus and climbed up beside the 
boy. As he took his place he glanced at him kindly 
and instantly Steve felt a sense of friendliness 
toward the stranger; and after they had ridden a 
short distance in silence the man spoke. 

“What a beautiful river the Hudson is!” he re- 
marked. “Although I am an old New Yorker I 
never cease to delight in its charm and its fasci- 
nating history. It was on this body of water, you 
know, that the first steamboat was tried out.” 

“I didn’t know it,” Stephen confessed, with an 
honest blush. 

“You will be learning about it some day, I 
fancy,” said the other, with a smile. “An inter- 
esting story it is, too. All the beginnings of our 
great industries and inventions read like ro- 
mances.” 

“My father has just been telling me about the 
beginnings of some of our railroads,” observed 
Steve shyly, “and certainly his stories were as good 
as fairy tales.” 

“Is your father especially interested in rail- 
roads?” inquired the New Yorker. 

“Yes, sir. He is in the railroad business.” 

“Ah, then that accounts for his filling your ears 
with locomotives instead of steamboats,” declared 
the man, with a twinkle in his eyes. “Now if I 
were to spin a yarn for you, it would be of steam- 
boats because that happens to be the thing I am 
interested in; I believe their history to be one of 
the most alluring tales to which a boy could listen. 


1 12 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 


Sometime you get a person who knows the drama 
from start to finish to relate to you the whole mar- 
velous adventure of early steamboating, and you 
see if it does not beat the railroad story all out.” 

He laughed a merry laugh in which Stephen 
joined. 

“I wish you would tell it to me yourself,” sug- 
gested the lad. 

The man turned with an expression of pleasure 
on his red-cheeked face. 

“I should like nothing better, my boy,” he said 
quickly, “but you see it is a long story and I am 
getting out at the next corner. Sometime, how- 
ever, we may meet again. Who knows? And if 
we do you shall hold me to my promise to talk 
steamboats to you until you cry for mercy.” 

Bending down he took up a leather bag which 
he had placed between his feet. 

“I am leaving you here, sonny,” he said. “I take 
it you are in New York for a holiday.” 

“Yes, sir, I am,” returned Steve with surprise. 
“My father and I are staying here just for a few 
days.” 

“I hope you will have a jolly good time during 
your visit,” the man said, rising. 

Stephen mumured his thanks and watched the 
erect figure descend from the coach and disappear 
into a side stret. It was not until the New Yorker 
was well out of sight and the omnibus on its way 
that his eye was caught by the red bill book lying 
on the floor at his feet. None of the few scattered 


WHAT HAPPENED IN NEW YORK 113 

passengers had noticed it and stooping, he picked 
it up and quietly slipped it into his pocket. 

What should he do with it? 

Of course he could hand it over to the driver of 
the bus and tell him he had found it. But the man 
might not be honest and instead of turning it in 
to the company might keep it. There was little 
doubt in Steve’s mind that the pocketbook be- 
longed to the stranger who had just vacated the 
place and it was likely his address was inside it. 
If so, what a pleasure it would be to return the lost 
article to its rightful owner himself. By so doing 
he would not only be sure the pocket-book reached 
its destination but he might see the steamboat man 
again. 

He longed to open the bill book and investigate 
its contents. What was in it, he wondered. Well, 
the top of a Fifth Avenue coach was no place to 
be looking through pocketbooks, there was no ques- 
tion about that. Let alone the fact that persons 
might be watching him, there was danger that in 
the fresh morning breeze something might take 
wing, sail down to the Hudson, and never be seen 
again. Therefore he decided to curb his impa- 
tience and wait until he reached a more favorable 
spot to examine his suddenly acquired treasure. 
Accordingly he tucked the long red wallet farther 
down into the breast pocket of his ulster, and feel- 
ing assured that nothing could be done about it at 
present, gave himself up to the pleasure and ex- 
citement of the drive. 


1 14 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

It was not until he had rejoined his father at the 
hotel and the two were sitting at lunch in the great 
dining room that the thought of it again flashed 
into his mind. 

“Gee, Dad!” he suddenly exclaimed, looking up 
from his plateful of fried chicken with fork sus- 
pended in mid-air. “I meant to tell you I found 
a pocketbook in the bus this morning.” 

“A pocketbook!” 

“Yes, sir. I think the man who had been sitting 
beside me must have dropped it when he stooped 
over to get his bag. At any rate it was lying there 
after he got out.” 

“What did you do with it?” Mr. Tolman in- 
quired with no great warmth of interest. “Gave 
it to the conductor, I suppose.” 

The boy shook his head. 

“No, I didn’t,” was the answer. “I was afraid 
he might not turn it in, and as I liked the man who 
lost it I wanted to be sure he got it, so I brought 
it back with me.” 

“And where is it now?” demanded Mr. Tolman, 
now all attention. “I hope you were not so care- 
less as to leave it upstairs in our room.” 

“No. I didn’t leave it in the room,” returned 
the lad. “It is out in my coat pocket. I meant to 
take it out and see what was in it; but so many 
things happened that I forgot about it until this 
very minute.” 

“You don’t mean that you left it in your ulster 
pocket and let them hang it out there on the rack?” 


WHAT HAPPENED IN NEW YORK 115 

“Yes.” 

“You checked your coat and left it there?” 

“Why — yes,” came the faltering reply. 

Mr. Tolman was on his feet. 

“Wait here until I come back,” he said in a sharp 
tone. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Give me your check quickly,” went on his 
father, without heeding the question. “Hurry!” 

Steve fumbled in his jacket pocket. 

“Be quick, son, be quick!” commanded Mr. Tol- 
man impatiently. “Don’t you know it is never safe 
to leave anything of value in your coat when you 
are staying at a large city hotel? Somebody may 
have taken the pocketbook already.” 

Scarlet with consternation the lad produced the 
check. 

“If nothing has happened to that pocketbook 
you will be very fortunate,” asserted the man se- 
verely. “Stay here! I will be right back.” 

With beating heart the boy watched him thread 
his way between the tables and disappear from the 
dining room into the lobby. 

Suppose the bill book should be gone! 

What if there had been valuable papers in it, 
money — a great deal of money — and now 
through his carelessness it had all disappeared? 
How stupid he had been not to remember about 
it and give it to his father the instant they had 
met! In fact, he would much better have taken 
a chance and handed it to the bus conductor than 


n6 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

to have done the foolish thing he had. He had 
meant so well and blundered so grievously! How 
often his father had cautioned him to be careful 
of money when he was traveling! 

Tensely he sat in his chair and waited with mis- 
erable anxiety, his eyes fixed on the dining-room 
door. Then presently, to his great relief, he saw 
his father returning. 

“Did you — ” he began. 

“You will have to come yourself, Steve,” said the 
elder man whose brow was wrinkled into a frown 
of annoyance. “The maid who checked the coats 
is not there, and the one who is insists that the 
ulster is not mine, and in spite of the check will 
not allow me to search the pockets of it.” 

Stephen jumped up. 

“I suppose she is right, too,” went on Mr. Tol- 
man breathlessly, “but the delay is very unfor- 
tunate.” 

They made their way into the corridor, where 
by this time an office clerk and another man had 
joined the maid who was in charge of the coat rack. 

Stephen presented his check and without com- 
ment the woman handed him his coat. With trem- 
bling hand he dived into the deep pocket and from 
it drew forth the red bill book which he gave to his 
father. 

“There it is, Dad, safe and sound!” he gasped. 

Instantly the clerk was in their path. 

“I beg pardon, sir,” said he with deference, “but 
does that pocketbook belong to you?” 


WHAT HAPPENED IN NEW YORK 117 

Mr. Tolman wheeled about. 

“Eh — what did you say?” he inquired. 

“I asked, sir, if that pocketbook was your prop- 
erty?” repeated the clerk. 

Mr. Tolman faced his inquisitor. 

“What business is that of yours?” he demanded 
curtly. 

“I am sorry, sir, to appear rude,” the hotel em- 
ployee replied, “but we have been asked to be on 
the lookout for a young lad who rode this morning 
on one of the Fifth Avenue busses where a valu- 
able pocketbook was lost. Your son tallies so well 
with the description that — ” 

“It was I,” put in Stephen eagerly, without re- 
gard for consequences. “Who wants me?” 

With a smile of eagerness he turned, expecting 
to encounter the genial face of his acquaintance of 
the morning. Then he would smile, hold out the 
pocketbook, and they would laugh together as 
he explained the adventure, and perhaps afterward 
have luncheon in company. 

Instead no familiar form greeted him. On the 
contrary the slender man who had been standing 
beside the clerk came forward. 

Mr. Tolman sensed the situation in a second. 

“You mean somebody thinks my son took the 
pocketbook?” asked he indignantly, as he con- 
fronted the clerk and his companion. 

“It is not my affair, sir, and I am sorry it should 
happen in our hotel,” apologized the clerk. “Per- 
haps if you will just explain the whole matter to 


n8 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

this gentleman — ” he broke off, saying in an un- 
dertone to the man at his elbow. “This is your 
boy, Donovan.” 

The tall man came nearer. 

“You are a detective?” asked Mr. Tolman 
bluntly. 

“Well, something of the sort, sir,” admitted the 
man called Donovan. “It is occasionally my busi- 
ness to hunt people up.” 

“And you have been sent to hunt my son up?” 

Donovan nodded. 

Stephen turned white and his father put a re- 
assuring hand on his shoulder. 

“My son and I,” he replied, addressing the de- 
tective quietly, “can explain this entire affair to 
you and will do so gladly. The boy did find the 
pocketbook but he was ignorant of its value be- 
cause he has not even looked inside it. In fact, 
that he had the article in his possession did not 
come into his mind until a few moments ago. If 
he had known the thing was valuable, do you sup- 
pose he would have left it in his ulster pocket and 
checked the coat in a public place like this?” 

The detective made no reply. 

“We both shall be very glad,” went on Mr. Tol- 
man firmly, “to go with you to headquarters and 
straighten the matter out.” 

“There may be no need of that, sir,” Donovan 
responded with a pleasant smile. “If we can just 
talk the affair over in a satisfactory way — ” 

“Suppose you come upstairs to our room,” sug- 


WHAT HAPPENED IN NEW YORK 119 

gested Mr. Tolman. “That will give us more quiet 
and privacy. Will that be agreeable to you?” 

“Perfectly.” 

As the three walked toward the elevator Steve 
glanced with trepidation at the plain-clothes man. 

The boy knew he had done nothing wrong; but 
would he be able to convince the detective of the 
truth of his story? He was thoroughly frightened 
and wondered whether his father was also alarmed. 

If, however, Mr. Tolman was worried he at least 
did not show it. Instead he courteously led the 
way from the elevator down the dim corridor and 
unlocked the door of Number 379. 

“Come in, Mr. Donovan,” he said cordially. 
“Here is a chair and a cigar. Now, son, tell us the 
story of this troublesome pocketbook from begin- 
ning to end.” 

In a trembling voice Stephen began his tale. He 
spoke slowly, uncertainly, for he was well scared. 
Gradually, however, he forgot his agitation and 
his voice became more positive. He recounted the 
details of the omnibus ride with great care, adding 
ingenuously when he came to the termination of 
the narrative: 

“And I hoped the man’s name would be inside 
the pocketbook because I liked him very much and 
wanted to return to him what he had lost.” 

“And wasn’t it?” put in Mr. Donovan quickly. 

“I don’t know,” was the innocent retort. “Don’t 
you remember I told you that I hadn’t looked in- 
side yet?” 


120 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

The detective laughed with satisfaction. 

“That was a shabby trick of mine, youngster,” 
said he. “It was mean to try to trap you.” 

“Trap me?” repeated Steve vaguely. 

“There, there, sonny! ” went on Donovan kindly. 
“Don’t you worry a minute more about this mix-up. 
Mr. Ackerman, the gentleman who lost the bill 
book, did not think for a second that you had taken 
it. He simply was so sure that he had lost it on 
the bus that he wanted to locate you and find out 
whether you knew anything about it or not. His 
name was not inside the pocketbook, you see, and 
therefore any one who found it would have no way 
of tracing its owner. What it contains are valu- 
able papers and a big wad of Liberty Bonds which, 
as your father knows, could quickly be converted 
into cash. In consequence Mr. Ackerman decided 
that the sooner the pocketbook was found the 
better. The omnibus people denied any knowledge 
of it and you were the only remaining clue.” 

Mr. Tolman sank back in his chair and a relaxa- 
tion of his muscles betrayed for the first time that 
he had been much more disturbed than he had 
appeared to be. 

“Well,” he said, lighting a fresh cigar, “the bill 
book is not only located but we can hand it back 
intact to its owner. If you can inform us where 
the gentleman lives, my boy and I will call a taxi 
and go to his house or office with his property.” 

A flush of embarrassment suffused the face of 
the officer. 


WHAT HAPPENED IN NEW YORK 12 1 

“Maybe you would like to come with us, Dono- 
van,” added Mr. Tolman, who instantly inter- 
preted the man’s confusion. 

“I hate to be dogging your footsteps, sir, in this 
fashion,” Mr. Donovan answered, with obvious sin- 
cerity. “Still, I — ” 

“You have your orders, no doubt.” 

“Well, yes, sir,” admitted the plain-clothes man 
with reluctance. “I have.” 

“You were to keep your eye on us until the 
pocketbook reached its owner.” 

“That’s about it, sir. Not that I personally have 
the least suspicion that a gentleman like you 
would — ” 

“That is all right, my man. I perfectly under- 
stand your position,” Mr. Tolman cut in. “After 
all, you have your duty to do and business is busi- 
ness. We’ll just telephone Mr. Ackerman that we 
are coming so that we shall be sure of catching him, 
and then we will go right up there.” 

“Very well, sir.” 

Stephen’s father started toward the telephone 
and then, as if struck by a sudden thought, paused 
and turned. 

“Steve,” he said, “I believe you are the person to 
communicate with Mr. Ackerman. Call him up 
and tell him you have found his purse and that you 
and your father would like to come up to his house, 
if it will be convenient, and return it.” 

“All right, Dad.” 

“You will find his number on this slip of paper, 


122 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

sonny/’ the detective added, handing the lad a card. 
“He is not at his office. He went home to lunch in 
the hope that he had left the pocketbook there.” 

After some delay Stephen succeeded in getting 
the number written on the card. A servant an- 
swered the summons. 

“May I speak to Mr. Ackerman, please?” in- 
quired the lad. “He is at luncheon? No, it would 
not do the least good for me to tell you my name 
for he would not know who it was. Just tell him 
that the boy who sat beside him this morning on 
the Fifth Avenue bus — ” there was a little chuckle. 
“Oh, he will be here directly, will he? I thought 
perhaps he would.” 

A moment later a cheery voice which Steve at 
once recognized to be that of the steamboat man 
came over the wire: 

“Well, sonny?” 

“I found your bill book, Mr. Ackerman, and my 
father and I would like to bring it up to you.” 

“Well, well! that is fine news!” cried the man 
at the other end of the line. “How did you know 
who it belonged to?” 

“Oh, I — we — found out — my father and I,” 
stammered the lad. “May we come up to your 
house with it now?” 

“You would much better let me come to you; 
then only one person will be inconvenienced,” the 
New Yorker returned pleasantly. “Where are you 
staying?” 

“At the Manhattan/’ 


WHAT HAPPENED IN NEW YORK 123 

“You must not think of taking the trouble of 
coming way up here. Let me join you and your 
father at your hotel.” 

“Very well, Mr. Ackerman. If you’d rather — ” 

“I certainly should rather!” was the emphatic 
answer. “I could not think of bringing two people 
so far out of their way.” 

“There are three of us!” squeaked Stephen. 

“Three?” 

“Yes, sir. We have another person — a friend 
— with us,” explained the boy, with quiet enjoy- 
ment. How easy it was to laugh now! 

“All the more reason why I should come to you, 
then,” asserted Mr. Ackerman. “I will be at the 
Manhattan within half an hour. Perhaps if you 
and your father and your friend have the after- 
noon free you would like to go to some sort of a 
show with me after we conclude our business. 
Since you are here on a holiday you can’t be very 
busy.” 

Stephen’s eyes sparkled with merriment. 

“I don’t know whether our friend can go or not,” 
he replied politely, “but I think perhaps Dad and 
I could; and if we can we should like to very 
much.” 

“That will be excellent. I will come right along. 
Not only shall I be glad to get my pocketbook back 
again but I shall be glad to see you once more. I 
told you this morning that I had a feeling we 
should meet some time. Whom shall I ask for at 
the hotel?” 


124 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“Stephen Tolman.” 

With a click the boy hung up the receiver. 

“Mr. Ackerman is coming right down/’ said he, 
addressing his father and the detective with a mis- 
chievous smile. “He has invited the three of us 
to go to the matinee with him.” 

“The three of us! ” echoed the plain-clothes man. 

“Yes,” returned the lad. “I told him we had 
a friend with us and so he said to bring him along.” 

“Good heavens!” Donovan ejaculated. 

Mr. Tolman laughed heartily. 

“Not all the thieves you arrest take you to a 
theater party afterward, do they, Officer?” he 
asked. 

“I said from the first you were gentlemen,” Mr. 
Donovan asserted with humor. 

“But couldn’t you go?” inquired Steve, quite 
seriously. 

“Bless you, no, sonny! ” replied the man. “I am 
from headquarters, you know, and my work is 
chasing up crooks — not going to matinees.” 

Nevertheless there was an intonation of gentle- 
ness in his voice, as he added, “I am obliged to you 
just the same, for in spite of my calling I am a 
human being and I appreciate being treated like 
one.” 


CHAPTER IX 

AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 

Mr. Ackerman was as good as his word, for 
within half an hour he presented himself at the 
hotel where he found Mr. Tolman, Mr. Donovan 
and Steve awaiting him in their pleasant upstairs 
room. As he joined them his eye traveled inquir- 
ingly from one to another of the group and lin- 
gered with curiosity on the face of the detective. 
The next instant he was holding out his hand to 
Stephen. 

“Well, my boy, I am glad to see you again,” said 
he, a ring of heartiness in his voice. 

“And I am glad to see you, too, Mr. Ackerman,” 
Steve replied, returning the hand-clasp with fervor. 
“This is my father, sir; and this” — for a second 
he hesitated, then continued, “is our friend, Mr. 
Donovan.” 

With cordiality the New Yorker acknowledged 
the introductions. 

“Mr. Donovan,” explained Mr. Tolman, scan- 
ning Mr. Ackerman's countenance with a keen, 
half-quizzical expression, “is from headquarters.” 

The steamboat, magnate started and shot a quick 
glance at those present. It was plain he was dis- 
concerted and uncertain as to how to proceed. 


126 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Mr. Donovan, however, came to his rescue, step- 
ping tactfully into the breach: 

“I was not needed for anything but to supply 
your address, sir; but I was able to do that, so be- 
tween us all we have contrived to return your 
pocketbook to you as good as before it left your 
possession.” 

As he spoke Mr. Tolman drew forth the missing 
bill book and held it toward its owner. 

“That looks pretty good to me ! ” Mr. Ackerman 
exclaimed, as he took the article from Mr. Tolman’s 
outstretched hand and regarded it reflectively. “I 
don’t know when I have ever done anything so 
careless and stupid. You see I had got part way 
to the bank before I remembered that I had left 
my glasses, on which I am absolutely dependent, 
at home. Therefore, there being no taxi in sight, 
I hailed a passing bus and climbed up beside this 
youngster. How the bill book happened to slip out 
of my pocket I cannot explain. It seemed to me it 
would be safer to have the securities upon my per- 
son than in a bag that might be snatched from me; 
but apparently my logic was at fault. I was, how- 
ever, so certain of my wisdom that I never thought 
to question it until I had reached the sidewalk and 
the bus had gone. 

“Your boy, Mr. Tolman, confided while we rode 
along this morning that he was visiting in New 
York for a few days; but of course I did not ask 
his name or address and so when I wanted his help 
in tracing the missing pocketbook I had no way of 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 127 

locating him beyond assuming that he must be stay- 
ing at one of the hotels. Therefore when the om- 
nibus company could furnish no clue, I got into 
touch with an agency whose business it is to hunt 
people up. If the pocketbook had been dropped 
on the bus I felt sure your boy, who was almost the 
only other person on top of the coach, would know 
about it; if, on the other hand, it had been dropped 
in the street, my problem would be a different one. 
In either case the sooner I knew my course of ac- 
tion the better. I hope you will believe, Mr. Tol- 
man, that when I called in the aid of detectives I 
had no suspicions against your son’s honesty.” 

Mr. Tolman waved the final remark aside good- 
humoredly. 

“We have not taken the affair as a personal 
matter at all,” he declared. “We fully appreciate 
your difficulty in finding Stephen, for he was also 
up against the problem of finding you. New York 
is a rather large city anyway, and for two people 
who do not even know one another’s names to get 
together is like hunting a needle in a haystack. 
Our only recourse to discovering the owner of the 
pocketbook would be through the advertising 
columns of the papers and that is the method we 
should have followed had not Donovan appeared 
and saved us the trouble.” 

He exchanged a smile with the detective. 

“The advertising column was my one hope,” Mr. 
Ackerman replied. “I felt sure that any honest 
person who picked up the purse would advertise it. 


128 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

It was not the honest people I was worrying about. 
It was the thought that I had dropped the bill book 
in the street where any Tom-Dick-and-Harry could 
run away with it that concerned me. Moreover, 
even if your boy had found it on the bus, he might 
have turned it in to an employee of the coach line 
who was not honest enough to give it in turn to 
his superiors. So I wanted to know where I stood; 
and now that I do I cannot tell you how grateful 
I am both to Stephen and to this officer here for 
the service they have rendered me.” Then, turn- 
ing toward Mr. Tolman, he added in an undertone, 
“I hope neither you nor your son have suffered any 
annoyance through this unfortunate incident.” 

“Not in the least,” was the prompt response. 
“I confess we were a trifle disconcerted at first; but 
Mr. Donovan has performed his duty with such 
courtesy that we entertain toward him nothing but 
gratitude.” 

“I am glad of that,” Mr. Ackerman replied, “for 
I should deeply regret placing either you or your 
boy, even for a moment, in an uncomfortable po- 
sition, or one where it might appear that I — ” 

But Mr. Tolman cut him short. 

“You took the quickest, most sensible course, 
Ackerman,” said he. “Too much was at stake for 
you to risk delay. When a pocketbook filled with 
negotiable securities disappears one must of ne- 
cessity act with speed. Neither Stephen nor I 
cherish the least ill-will about the affair; do we, 
son?” 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 129 

“No, indeed.” 

Then smiling ingenuously up into the face of 
the New York man, he said: 

“Don’t you want to look in your pocketbook and 
see if everything is all right, sir?” 

The steamboat financier laughed. 

* “You are a prudent young man,” declared he. 
“No, I am quite willing to risk that the property 
you have so kindly guarded is intact.” 

“It ought to be,” the boy said. “I haven’t even 
opened the pocketbook.” 

“A better proof still that everything is safe 
within it,” chuckled Mr. Ackerman. “No, sonny, 
I am not worrying. I should not worry even if you 
had ransacked the bill book from one end to the 
other. I’d take a chance on the honesty of a boy 
like you.” 

Mr. Tolman, however, who had been listening, 
now came forward and broke into the conversation: 

“Stephen’s suggestion is a good, businesslike one, 
Ackerman,” he declared. “As a mere matter of 
form — not as a slam against our morals — I am 
sure that both he and I would prefer that you ex- 
amined your property while we are all here to- 
gether and assure yourself that it is all right.” 

“Pooh! Pooh! Nonsense!” objected the fin- 
ancier. 

“It is a wise notion, Mr. Ackerman,” rejoined 
Mr. Donovan. “Business is business. None of 
us questions the honor of Mr. Tolman or his son. 
They know that. Nevertheless I am sure we should 


I 3 0 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

all feel better satisfied if you went through the 
formality of an investigation.” 

“Very well, just as you say. But I want it un- 
derstood that I do it at their and your request. I 
am perfectly satisfied to leave things as they are.” 

Taking the now familiar red pocketbook from 
his coat he opened it unconcernedly ; then the three 
persons watching him saw a look of consternation 
banish the smile from his face. 

“What’s wrong, Ackerman?” inquired the plain- 
clothes man quickly. 

Without a word the other held the bill book 
toward him. It was empty. Bonds, securities, 
money were gone! A gasp of incredulity came 
from Stephen. 

“I didn’t open it — truly I didn’t!” exclaimed 
he, in a terror-stricken voice. 

But Mr. Ackerman did not heed the remark. 

“I am afraid this looks pretty black for us, Ac- 
kerman,” said Mr. Tolman slowly. “We have 
nothing to give you but the boy’s word.” 

Mr. Donovan, however, who had been studying 
the group with a hawklike scrutiny now sprang to 
his feet and caught up his hat. 

“I don’t see how they dared put it over ! ” he ex- 
claimed excitedly. “But they almost got away 
with it. Even I was fooled.” 

“You don’t mean to insinuate,” Mr. Tolman 
burst out, “that you think we — ” 

“Good heavens, no!” replied the detective with 
his hand on the door knob. “Don’t go getting hot 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 13 1 

under the collar, Mr. Tolman. Nobody is slam- 
ming you. I have been pretty stupid about this 
affair, I’m afraid; but give me credit for recogniz- 
ing honest people when I see them. No, somebody 
has tricked you — tricked you all. But the game 
isn’t up yet. If you gentlemen will just wait 
here — ” 

The sentence was cut short by the banging of 
the door. The detective was gone. His departure 
was followed by an awkward silence. 

Mr. Ackerman’s face clouded into a frown of 
disappointment and anxiety; Mr. Tolman paced 
the floor and puffed viciously at a cigar; and Steve, 
his heart cold within him, looked from one to the 
other, chagrin, mortification and terror in his eyes. 

“I didn’t open the pocketbook, Mr. Ackerman,” 
he reiterated for the twentieth time. “ I truly 
didn’t.” 

But the steamboat magnate was too deeply ab- 
sorbed in his own thoughts and speculations to 
notice the high-pitched voice with its intonation of 
distress. 

At last Mr. Tolman could endure the situation 
no longer. 

“This is a most unfortunate happening, Acker- 
man,” he burst out. “I am more concerned about 
it than I can express. My boy and I are utter 
strangers to you and we have no way of proving 
our honesty. All I can say is that we are as much 
amazed at the turn affairs have taken as yourself, 
and we regret it with quite as much poignancy — 


132 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

perhaps more since it reflects directly upon us. If 
there is anything we can do — ” 

He stopped, awaiting a reply from the other 
man, but none came. 

“Good heavens, Ackerman,” he cried. “You 
don’t mean to say you do not believe my son and 
me — that you suspect us of double-dealing!” 

“I don’t know what to believe, Tolman,” owned 
Mr. Ackerman with candor. “I want very much 
to credit your story; in my heart, I do credit it. 
But head and heart seem to be at variance in this 
matter. Frankly I am puzzled to know where the 
contents of that pocketbook have gone. Were the 
things taken out before the bill book fell into your 
son’s hands or afterward? And if afterward, who 
took them? Who had the chance? Donovan seems 
to think he has a clue, but I confess I have none.” 

“Hadn’t you looked over the bonds and stuff 
since you took them home?” 

“No,” Mr. Ackerman admitted. “I got them 
from the broker yesterday and as it was too late 
to put them into the safe-deposit vault, I took them 
home with me instead of putting them in our office 
safe as I should have done. I thought it would be 
easier for me to stop at the bank with them this 
morning on my way to business. It was foolish 
planning but I aimed to save time.” 

“So the pocketbook was at your house over 
night?” 

Mr. Ackerman nodded. 

“Yes,” confessed he. “Nevertheless it did not 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 133 

go out of my possession. I had it in the inner 
pocket of my coat all the time.” 

“You are sure no one took the things out while 
you were asleep last night?” 

“Why — I — I don’t see how they could,” fal- 
tered Mr. Ackerman. “My servants are honest — 
at least, they always have been. I have had them 
for years. Moreover, none of them knew I had 
valuable papers about me. How could they?” was 
the reply. 

Once more silence fell upon the room. 

“Come, Tolman,” ejaculated the steamboat man 
presently, “you are a level-headed person. What 
is your theory?” 

“If I did not know my son and myself as well as 
I do,” Mr. Tolman answered with deliberation, 
“my theory would he precisely what I fancy yours 
is. I should reason that during the interval be- 
tween the finding of the purse and its return the 
contents had been extracted.” 

He saw the New Yorker color. 

“That, I admit, is my logical theory,” Mr. Ac- 
kerman owned with a blush, “but it is not my in- 
tuitive one. My brain tells me one thing and my 
heart another; and in spite of the fact that the 
arguments of my brain seem correct I find myself 
believing my heart and in consequence cherishing 
a groundless faith in you and your boy,” concluded 
he, with a faint smile. 

“That is certainly generous of you, Ackerman!” 
Mr. Tolman returned, much moved by the other’s 


i 3 4 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

confidence. “Stephen and I are in a very com- 
promising situation with nothing but your belief 
between us and a great deal of unpleasantness. We 
appreciate your attitude of mind more than we can 
express. The only other explanation I can offer, 
and in the face of the difficulties it would involve 
it hardly seems a possible one, is that while the 
coat was hanging in the lobby — ” 

There was a sound outside and a sharp knock 
at the door, and an instant later Mr. Donovan en- 
tered, his face wreathed in smiles. Following him 
was the woman who had checked the coats, a much 
frightened bell boy, and a blue-uniformed police- 
man. 

The woman was sobbing. 

“Indeed, sir,” she wailed, approaching Steve, 
“I never meant to keep the pocketbook and make 
trouble for you. I have a boy of my own at home, 
a lad about your age. What is to become of him 
now? Oh, dear; oh, dear!” 

She burst into passionate weeping. 

“Now see here, my good woman, stop all this 
crying and talk quietly,” cut in the policeman in a 
curt but not unkind tone. “If you will tell us the 
truth, perhaps we can help you. In any case we 
must know exactly what happened.” 

“She must understand that anything she says 
can be used against her,” cautioned the detective, 
who in spite of his eagerness to solve the mystery 
was determined the culprit should have fair play. 

“Indeed, I don’t care, sir,” protested the maid, 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 135 

wiping her eyes on her ridiculously small apron. 
“I can’t be any worse off than I am now with a 
policeman taking me to the lock-up. I’ll tell the 
gentlemen the truth, I swear I will.” 

With a courtesy he habitually displayed toward 
all womanhood Mr. Tolman drew forward a chair 
and she sank gratefully into it. 

“I spied the bill book in the young gentleman’s 
pocket the minute he took off his coat,” began she 
in a low tone. “It was bright colored and as it 
was sticking part way out I couldn’t help seeing 
it. Of course, I expected he would take it with him 
into the dining room but when he didn’t I came to 
the conclusion that there couldn’t be anything of 
value in it. But by and by I had more coats to 
hang up and one of them, a big, heavy, fur-lined 
one, brushed against the young gentleman’s ulster 
and knocked the pocketbook out on to the floor so 
that it lay open under the coat rack. It was then 
'that I saw it was stuffed full of papers and things.” 

She stopped a moment to catch her breath and 
then went resolutely on: 

“It seemed to me it was no sort of a plan to put 
the wallet back into the lad’s pocket, for when I 
wasn’t looking somebody might take it. So I de- 
cided I much better keep it safe for him, and 
maybe,” she owned with a blush, “get a good-sized 
tip for doing it. I have a big pocket in my under- 
skirt where I carry my own money and I slipped 
it right in there, meaning to hand it to the young 
man when he came out from lunch,” 


136 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

The corners of her mouth twitched and her tears 
began to fall again, but she wiped them away with 
her apron and proceeded steadily: 

“But nothing turned out as I planned, for no 
sooner was the bill book in my pocket than I was 
called away to help about the wraps at a lady’s 
luncheon upstairs. There were so many people 
about the hall that I had no chance to restore the 
bill book to the lad’s pocket without some one see- 
ing me and thinking, perhaps, that I was stealing. 
There was no help but to take it with me, trusting 
they would not keep me long upstairs and that I 
would get back to my regular place before the 
young gentleman came out of the dining room. It 
was when I got out of the elevator in the upper 
hall that I spied Dick, one of the bell boys I knew, 
and I called to him; and after explaining that I 
couldn’t get away to go downstairs I asked him to 
take the wallet and put it in 47’s pocket. He’s a 
good-natured little chap and always ready to do 
an errand, and more than that he’s an honest boy. 
So I felt quite safe and went to work, supposing 
the young man had his pocketbook long ago.” 

All eyes were turned upon the unlucky bell boy 
who hung his head and colored uncomfortably. 

“So it was the boy who took the contents of the 
pocketbook!” was Mr. Ackerman’s comment. 

“Speak up, boy,” commanded the officer. “The 
gentleman is talking to you.” The lad looked up 
with a frightened start. 

He might have been sixteen years of age but he 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 137 

did not look it for he was pale and underfed; nor 
was there anything in his bearing to indicate the 
poise and maturity of one who was master of the 
occasion. On the contrary, he was simply a boy 
who was frankly distressed and frightened, and as 
unfeignedly helpless in the present emergency as 
if he had been six years old and been caught steal- 
ing jam from the pantry shelf. It did not take 
more than a glance to convince the onlookers that 
he was no hardened criminal. If he had done 
wrong it had been the result either of impulse or 
mischief, and the dire result of his deed was a thing 
he had been too unsophisticated to foresee. The 
plight in which he now found himself plainly 
amazed and overwhelmed him and he looked 
pleadingly at his captors. 

“Well, my boy, what have you to say for your- 
self ?” repeated Mr. Ackerman more gently. 

“Nothin’.” 

“Nothing?” 

“No, sir.” 

“You did take the things out of the pocketbook 
then.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“But you are not a boy accustomed to taking 
what does not belong to you.” 

The culprit shot a glance of gratitude toward 
the speaker but made no reply. 

“How did you happen to do it this time?” per- 
sisted Mr. Ackerman kindly. “Come, tell me all 
about it,” 


138 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Perhaps it was the ring of sympathy in the 
elder man’s voice that won the boy’s heart. What- 
ever the charm, it conquered; and he met the 
eyes that scanned his countenance with a timid 
smile. 

“I wanted to see what was in the pocketbook,” 
said he with naive honesty, “and so I took the 
things out to look at them. I wasn’t goin’ to keep 
’em. I dodged into one of the little alcoves in the 
hall and had just pulled the papers out when I 
heard somebody cornin’. So I crammed the whole 
wad of stuff into my pocket, waiting for a time 
when I could look it over and put it back. But 
I got held up just like Mrs. Nolan did,” he pointed 
toward the woman in the chair. “Some man was 
sick and the clerk sent me to get a bottle of medi- 
cine the minute I got downstairs, and all I had the 
chance to do was to stick the empty wallet in 47’s 
pocket and beat it for the drug store. I thought 
there would be letters or something among the 
papers that would give the name of the man they 
belonged to, and I’d take ’em to the clerk at the 
desk an’ say I found ’em. But no sooner had I 
got the medicine up to room Number 792 than the 
policeman nabbed me with the papers an’ things 
on me. That’s all there is to it, sir.” 

“Have you the things now?” the officer put in 
quickly. 

“Sure! Didn’t I just tell you I hadn’t had the 
chance to hand ’em over to the clerk,” the boy 
reiterated, pulling a wad of crumpled Liberty 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 139 

Bonds and documents out of his pocket, and tum- 
bling them upon the table. 

There was no doubting the lad’s story. Truth 
spoke in every line of his face and in the frankness 
with which he met the scrutiny of those who 
listened to him. If one had questioned his up- 
rightness the facts bore out his statements, for 
once out of the hotel on an errand he might easily 
have taken to his heels and never returned; or he 
might have disposed of his booty during his ab- 
sence. But he had done neither. He had gone 
to the drug store and come back with every inten- 
tion of making restitution for the result of his curi- 
osity. That was perfectly evident. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he declared, when no one spoke. 
“I know I shouldn’t have looked in the pocketbook 
or touched the papers; but I meant no harm — 
honest I didn’t.” 

“I’ll be bound of that, sir,” the woman inter- 
rupted. “Dick was ever a lad to be trusted. The 
hotel people will tell you that. He’s been here 
several years and there’s never been a thing against 
him. I blame myself for getting him into this 
trouble, for without meaning to I put temptation 
in his way. I know that what he’s told you is the 
living truth, and I pray you’ll try and believe him 
and let him go. If harm was to come to the lad 
through me I’d never forgive myself. Let the boy 
go free and put the blame on me, if you must ar- 
rest somebody. I’m older and it doesn’t so much 
matter; but it’s terrible to start a child of his age 


i 4 o STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

in as a criminal. The name will follow him through 
life. He’ll never get rid of it and have a fair 
chance. Punish me but let the little chap go, I 
beg of you,” pleaded the woman, with streaming 
eyes. 

Mr. Ackerman cleared his throat; it was plain 
that the simple eloquence of the request had 
touched him deeply. 

“With your permission, officer, I am going to 
withdraw my charge,” he said, with a tremor in his 
voice. “You are to let both these persons go scot 
free. You, my good woman, meant well but acted 
foolishly. As for the boy, Donovan, I will assume 
the responsibility for him.” 

“You are willing to stand behind him, Mr. Acker- 
man?” 

“I am.” 

The detective turned toward the boy who had 
risen and was fumbling awkwardly with the brass 
buttons adorning his uniform. 

“You hear, Dick Martin, what the gentleman 
says,” began he impressively. “He believes you 
are a good boy, and as you have handed back the 
valuables in your possession he is going to take a 
chance on you and let you go.” 

A wave of crimson swept over the face of the 
boy and for the first time the tension in the youth- 
ful countenance relaxed. 

“But Mr. Ackerman,” Donovan continued, “ex- 
pects you are going to behave yourself in future 
and never do such a thing again.” 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 141 

“I am going to see your father, Dick,” broke in 
Mr. Ackerman’s kindly voice, “and talk with him 
and — ” 

“I haven’t any father,” declared the lad. 

“Your mother then.” 

“I’ve no mother either.” 

“Who do you live with?” 

“Mr. Aronson.” 

“Is he a relative?” 

“Oh, no, sir! I haven’t any relatives. There’s 
nobody belongin’ to me. Mr. Aronson is the tailor 
downstairs where I sleep. When I ain’t working 
here I do errands for him and he lets me have a 
cot in a room with four other boys — newsboys, 
bell hops and the like. We pay two dollars be- 
tween us for the room and sometimes when I carry 
a lot of boxes round for Mr. Aronson he gives me 
my breakfast.” 

“Nobody else is responsible for you?” 

“Nop!” returned the boy with emphasis. “No, 
sir, I mean.” 

“I’ll attend to all this, Donovan,” murmured 
Mr. Ackerman in an undertone to the detective. 
“The lad shall not remain there. I don’t know 
yet just what I’ll do with him but I will plan some- 
thing.” Then addressing the lad, he continued, 
“In the meantime, Dick, you are to consider me 
your relative. Later I shall hunt you up and we 
will get better acquainted. Be a good boy, for I 
expect some day you are going to make me very 
proud of you.” 


142 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“What!” 

In sheer astonishment the boy regarded his bene- 
factor. 

There was something very appealing in the little 
sharp-featured face which had now lost much of 
its pallor and softened into friendliness. 

“Why shouldn’t you make me proud of you?” 
inquired Mr. Ackerman softly. “You can, you 
know, if you do what is right.” 

“I’m goin’ to try to, sir,” burst out Dick with 
earnestness. “I’m goin’ to try to with all my 
might.” 

“That is all any one can ask of you, sonny,” 
replied the steamboat magnate. “Come, shake 
hands. Remember, I believe in you, and shall trust 
you to live up to your word. The officer is going 
to let you go and none of us is going to mention 
what has happened. I will fix up everything for 
you and Mrs. Nolan so you can both go back to 
your work without interference. Now bid Mr. 
Tolman and his son good-by and run along. Be- 
fore I leave the hotel I will look you up and you 
can give me Mr. Aronson’s address.” 

Master Richard Martin needed no second bid- 
ding. Eager to be gone he awkwardly put out his 
hand, first to Mr. Tolman and then to Steve; and 
afterward, with a shy smile to the detective and 
the policeman and a boyish duck of his head, he 
shot into the hall and they heard him rushing pell- 
mell down the corridor. Mrs. Nolan, however, 
was more self-con trolled. She curtsied elaborately 


AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY 143 

to each of the men and called down upon their 
heads every blessing that the sky could rain, and 
it was only after her breath had become quite ex- 
hausted that she consented to retire from the room 
and in company with the policeman and the detec- 
tive proceeded downstairs in the elevator. 

“Well, Tolman,” began the New Yorker when 
they were at last alone, “you see my heart was my 
best pilot. I put faith in it and it led me aright. 
Unfortunately it is now too late for the matinee 
but may I not renew my invitation and ask you 
and your son to dine with me this evening and con- 
clude our eventful day by going to the theater 
afterward?” 

Mr. Tolman hesitated. 

“Don’t refuse,” pleaded the steamboat man. 
“Our acquaintance has, I confess, had an unfor- 
tunate beginning; but a bad beginning makes for 
a good ending, they say, and I feel sure the old 
adage will prove true in our case. Accept my invi- 
tation and let us try it out.” 

“You are very kind,” murmured Mr. Tolman 
vaguely, “but I — ” 

“Help me to persuade your father to be generous, 
Stephen,” interposed Mr. Ackerman. “We must 
not let a miserable affair like this break up what 
might, perhaps, have been a delightful friendship.” 

“I don’t need any further persuading, Acker- 
man,” Mr. Tolman spoke quickly. “I accept your 
invitation with great pleasure.” 

“That’s right!” cried Mr. Ackerman, with evi- 


144 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

dent gratification. “Suppose you come to my house 
at seven o’clock if that will be convenient for you. 
We will have a pleasant evening together and for- 
get lost pocketbooks, detectives and policemen.” 

Taking out a small card, he hurriedly scrawled 
an address upon it. 

“I keep a sort of bachelor’s hall out on River- 
side Drive,” explained he, with a shade of wistful- 
ness. “My butler looks out for me and sees that 
I do not starve to death. He and his son are really 
excellent housekeepers and make me very comfort- 
able.” He slipped into his overcoat. “At seven, 
then,” he repeated. “Don’t fail me for I should 
be much disappointed. Good-by!” and with a 
wave of his hand he departed, leaving Stephen and 
his father to themselves. 


CHAPTER X 

AN EVENING OF ADVENTURE 

That evening Steve and his father took a taxi- 
cab and drove to the number Mr. Ackerman had 
given them. It proved to be an imposing apart- 
ment house of cream brick overlooking the Hud- 
son; and the view from the fifth floor, where their 
host lived, was such a fascinating one that the boy 
could hardly be persuaded to leave the bay window 
that fronted the shifting panorama before him. 

“So you like my moving picture, do you, Steve?” 
inquired the New Yorker merrily. 

“It is great! If I lived here I shouldn’t do a 
bit of studying,” was the lad’s answer. 

“You think the influence of the place bad, then.” 

“It would be for me,” Stephen chuckled. 

Both Mr. Tolman and Mr. Ackerman laughed. 

“I will own,” the latter confessed, “that at first 
those front windows demoralized me not a little. 
They had the same lure for me as they have for 
you. But by and by I gained the strength of mind 
to turn my back and let the Hudson River traffic 
look out for itself.” 

“You might try that remedy, son,” suggested 
Steve’s father. 


146 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“No, no, Tolman! Let the boy alone. If he 
is enjoying the ferries and steamboats so much the 
better.” 

“But there seem to be plenty of steamboats here 
in the room to enjoy,” was Mr. Tolman’s quick 
retort. 

“Steamboats?” repeated Steve vaguely, turning 
and looking about him. 

Sure enough, there were steamboats galore! 
Wherever he looked he saw them. Not only were 
the walls covered with pictures of every imaginable 
type of steamer, but wherever there was space 
enough there were tiers of little ship models in 
glass cases. There were side-wheelers, awkwardly 
constructed boats with sprawling paddles, screw 
propellers, and twin-screw craft; ferryboats, tugs, 
steam yachts, and ocean liners. Every known va- 
riety of sea-going contrivance was represented. 
The large room was like a museum of ships and 
the boy gave an involuntary exclamation of de- 
light. 

“Jove!” 

It was a laconic tribute to the marvels about 
him but it was uttered with so much vehemence 
that there was no mistaking its sincerity. Evi- 
dently, terse as it was, its ring of fervor satisfied 
Mr. Ackerman for he smiled to himself. 

“I never saw so many boats in all my life! ” burst 
out Steve. 

“I told you I was in the steamboat business,” 
put in Mr. Ackerman mischievously. 


AN EVENING OF ADVENTURE 147 

“I should think you were!” was the lad’s com- 
ment. 

“This is a wonderful collection, Ackerman/’ Mr. 
Tolman asserted, as he rose and began to walk 
about the room. “How did you ever get it to- 
gether? Many of these prints are priceless.” 

“Oh, I have been years doing it,” Mr. Acker- 
man said. “It has been my hobby. I have chosen 
to sink my money in these toys instead of in an 
abandoned farm or antique furniture. It is just 
a matter of taste, you see.” 

“You must have done some scouring of the coun- 
try to make your collection so complete. I don’t 
see how you ever succeeded in finding these old 
pictures and models. It is a genuine history 
lesson.” 

“I do not deserve all the credit, by any means,” 
the capitalist protested with modesty. “My grand- 
father, who was one of the owners of the first of 
the Hudson River steamers, began collecting pic- 
tures and drawings ; and at his death they came to 
my father who added to them. Afterward, when 
the collection descended to me, I tried to fill in the 
gaps in order to make the sequence complete. Of 
course in many cases I have not been able to find 
what I wanted, for neither prints nor models of 
some of the ships I desired were to be had. Either 
there were no copies of them in existence, or if 
there were no money could tempt their owners to 
part with them. Still I have a well enough graded 
lot to show the progression.” 


148 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“I should think you had!” said Mr. Tolman 
heartily. “You have arranged them beautifully, 
too, from the old whalers and early American 
coasting ships to the clippers. Then come the first 
steam packets, I see, and then the development of 
the steamboat through its successive steps up to 
our present-day floating palace. It tells its own 
story, doesn’t it?” 

“In certain fashion, yes,” Mr. Ackerman agreed. 
“But the real romance of it will never be fully told, 
I suppose. What an era of progress through which 
to have lived!” 

“And shared in, as your family evidently did,” 
interposed Mr. Tolman quickly. 

His host nodded. 

“Yes,” he answered, “I am quite proud to think 
that both my father and my grandfather had their 
humble part in the story.” 

“And well you may be. They were makers of 
history.” 

Both men were silent an instant, each occupied 
with his own thoughts. 

Mr. Tolman moved reflectively toward the man- 
telpiece before which Steve was standing, gazing 
intently at a significant quartette of tiny models 
under glass. First came a ship of graceful outline, 
having a miniature figurehead of an angel at its 
prow and every sail set. Beside this was an un- 
gainly side-wheeler with scarce a line of beauty 
to commend it. Next in order came an exquisite, 
up-to-date ocean liner; and the last in the group 


AN EVENING OF ADVENTURE 149 

was a modern battleship with guns, wireless, and 
every detail cunningly reproduced. 

Stephen stood speechless before them. 

“What are you thinking of, son?” his father 
asked. 

“Why, I — ” the boy hesitated. 

“Come, tell us! I’d like to know, too,” echoed 
Mr. Ackerman. 

“Why, to be honest I was wondering how you 
happened to pick these particular four for your 
mantel,” replied the lad with confusion. 

The steamboat man smiled kindly. 

“You think there are handsomer boats in the 
room than these, do you?” 

“Certainly there are better looking steamships 
than this one,” Steve returned, pointing with a 
shrug of his shoulders at the clumsy side-wheeler. 

“But that rather ugly craft is the most important 
one of the lot, my boy,” Mr. Tolman declared. 

“I suppose that is true,” Mr. Ackerman agreed. 
“The fate of all the others hung on that ship.” 

“Why?” was the boy’s prompt question. 

“Oh, it is much too long a yarn to tell you now,” 
laughed his host. “Were we to begin that tale we 
should not get to the theater to-night, say nothing 
of having any dinner.” 

“I’d like to hear the story,” persisted Stephen. 

“You will be reading it from a book some day.” 

“I’d rather hear you tell it.” 

“If that isn’t a spontaneous compliment, Acker- 
man, I don’t know what is,” laughed Mr. Tolman. 


150 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

The steamboat man did not reply but he could 
not quite disguise his pleasure, although he said 
a bit gruffly: 

“We shall have to leave the story and go to the 
show to-night. IVe bought the tickets and there 
is no escape/’ added he humorously. “But per- 
haps before you leave New York there will be some 
other chance for me to spin my yarn for you, and 
put your father’s railroad romances entirely in the 
shade.” 

The butler announced dinner and they passed 
into the dining room. 

If, however, Stephen thought that he was now 
to leave ships behind him he was mistaken, for the 
dining room proved to be quite as much of a mu- 
seum as the library had been. Against the dull 
blue paper hung pictures of racing yachts, early 
American fighting ships, and nautical encounters 
on the high seas. The house was a veritable won- 
derland, and so distracted was the lad that he 
could scarcely eat. 

“Come, come, son,” objected Mr. Tolman at 
last, “you will not be ready in time to go to any 
show unless you turn your attention to your 
dinner.” 

“That’s right,” Mr. Ackerman said. “Fall to 
and eat your roast beef. We are none too early 
as it is.” 

Accordingly Stephen fixed his eyes on his plate 
with resolution and tried his best to think no more 
of his alluring surroundings. With the coming of 


AN EVENING OF ADVENTURE 15 1 

the ice-cream he had almost forgotten there were 
such things as ships, and when he rose from the 
table he found himself quite as eager to set forth 
to the theater as any other healthy-minded lad of 
his age would have been. 

The “show” Mr. Ackerman had selected had 
been chosen with much care and was one any boy 
would have delighted to see. The great stage had, 
for the time being, been transformed to a western 
prairie and across it came a group of canvas-cov- 
ered wagons, or prairie schooners, such as were 
used in the early days by the first settlers of the 
West. Women and children were huddled beneath 
the arched canopy of coarse cloth and inside this 
shelter they passed the weary days and nights of 
travel. Through sun and storm the wagons 
rumbled on; jogging across the rough, uncharted 
country and jolting over rocks, sagebrush, and 
sand. There were streams to ford, mountains to 
climb on the long trip westward, but undaunted 
by obstacles the heroic little band of settlers who 
had with such determination left kin and comfort 
behind them passed on to that new land toward 
which their faces were set. 

It was such a company as this that Stephen now 
saw pictured before him. Perched on the front 
seat of the wagon driving the horses was the father 
of the family, rugged, alert, and of the woodsman 
type characteristic of the New England pioneer. 
The cavalcade halted. A fire was built and the 
travelers cooked their supper. Across the valley 


152 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

one could see the fading sunset deepen into twi- 
light. From a little stream near-by the men 
brought water for the tired horses. Then the 
women and children clambered into the “ship of 
the desert” and prepared for a night’s rest. 

In the meantime the men lingered about the dy- 
ing fire and one of them, a gun in his hand, paced 
back and forth as if on guard. Then suddenly he 
turned excitedly to his comrades with his finger on 
his lips. He had heard a sound, the sound they 
all dreaded, — the cry of an Indian. 

Presently over the crest of the hill came stealing 
a stealthy band of savages. On they came, crouch- 
ing against the rocks and moving forward with the 
lithe, gliding motion of serpents. The men sank 
down behind the brush, weapons in hand, and 
waited. On came the bloodthirsty Indians. Then, 
just when the destruction of the travelers seemed 
certain, onto the stage galloped a company of cow- 
boys. Immediately there was a flashing of rifles 
and a din of battle. First it seemed as if the heroic 
rescuers would surely be slaughtered. But they 
fought bravely and soon the Indians were either 
killed or captured. Amid the confusion the owners 
of the prairie schooners leaped to the seats of 
their wagons, lashed forward their tired horses, 
and disappeared in safety with the terrified women 
and children. 

It was not until the curtain fell upon this thrill- 
ing adventure that Stephen sank back into his 
chair and drew a long breath. 


AN EVENING OF ADVENTURE 153 

“Some show, eh, son?” said Mr. Tolman, as they 
put on their overcoats to leave the theater after 
the three long acts were over. 

The boy looked up, his eyes wide with excite- 
ment. 

“I should say!” he managed to gasp. 

“Did you like it, sonny?” Mr. Ackerman in- 
quired. 

“You bet I did!” 

“Think you would have preferred to cross the 
continent by wagon rather than by train?” 

Steve hesitated. 

“I guess a train would have been good enough 
for me,” he replied. “Was it really as bad as that 
before the railroads were built?” 

“Quite as bad, Fm afraid,” was his father’s an- 
swer. “Sometimes it was even worse, for the un- 
fortunate settlers did not always contrive to escape. 
It took courage to be a pioneer and travel the coun- 
try in those days. Undoubtedly there was much 
romance in the adventure but hand in hand with 
it went no little peril and discomfort. We owe a 
great deal to the men who settled the West; and, 
I sometimes think, even more to the dauntless 
women.” 

Stephen did not reply. Very quietly he walked 
down the aisle between his father and Mr. Acker- 
man, and when he gave his hand to the latter and 
said good-night he was still thoughtful. It was 
evident that the scenes he had witnessed had made 
a profound impression on him and that he was still 


154 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

immersed in the atmosphere of prairie schooners, 
lurking Indians, and desert hold-ups. Even when 
he reached the hotel he was too tense and broad 
awake to go to bed. 

“I wish you’d tell me, Dad, how the first rail- 
road across the country was built,” he said. “I 
don’t see how any track was ever laid through such 
a wilderness. Didn’t the Indians attack the work- 
men? I should think they would have.” 

His father placed a hand kindly on his shoulder. 

“To-morrow we’ll talk trans-continental rail- 
roads, son, if by that time you still wish to,” said 
he. “But to-night we’ll go to bed and think no 
more about them. I am tired and am sure you 
must be.” 

“I’m not!” was the prompt retort. 

“I rather fancy you will discover you are after 
you have undressed,” smiled his father. “At any 
rate we’ll have to call off railroading for to-night, 
for if you are not sleepy, I am.” 

“But you won’t have time to tell me anything 
to-morrow,” grumbled Steve, rising unwillingly 
from his chair. “You will be busy and forget all 
about it and — ” 

“I have nothing to do until eleven o’clock,” in- 
terrupted Mr. Tolman, “when I have a business 
meeting to attend. Up to that time I shall be 
free. And as for forgetting it — well, you might 
possibly remind me if the promise passes out of 
my mind.” 

In spite of himself the boy grinned. 


AN EVENING OF ADVENTURE 155 

“You can bank on my reminding you all right!” 
he said, yawning. 

“Very well. Then it is a bargain. You do the 
reminding and I will do the story-telling. Are you 
satisfied and ready to go to bed and to sleep now?” 
“I guess so, yes.” 

“Good-night then.” 

“Good-night, Dad. I — IVe had a bully day.” 


CHAPTER XI 

THE CROSSING OF THE COUNTRY 

In spite of the many excitements crowded into 
his first day in New York Stephen found that when 
his head actually touched the pillow sleep was not 
long in coming and he awoke the next morning re- 
freshed by a heavy and dreamless slumber. He 
was even dressed and ready for breakfast before 
his father and a- tip toe to attack whatever program 
the day might present. 

Fortunately Mr. Tolman was of a sufficiently 
sympathetic nature to remember how he had felt 
when a boy, and with generous appreciation for 
the lad’s impatience he scrambled up and made 
himself ready for a breakfast that was earlier, per- 
haps, than he would have preferred. 

“Well, son,” said he, as they took their places 
in the large dining room, “what is the prospect for 
to-day? Are you feeling fit for more adventures?” 

“I’m primed for whatever comes,” smiled the 
boy. 

“That’s the proper spirit! Indians, bandits and 
cowboys did not haunt your pillow then.” 

“I didn’t stay awake to see.” 

“You are a model traveler! Now we must plan 


THE CROSSING OF THE COUNTRY 157 

something pleasant for you to do to-day. I am 
not sure that we can keep up the pace yesterday 
set us, for it was a pretty thrilling one. Robberies 
and arrests do not come every day, to say nothing 
of flotillas of ships and Wild West shows. How- 
ever, we will do the best we can not to let the day 
go stale by contrast. But first I must dictate a 
few letters and glance over the morning paper. 
This won’t take me long and while I am doing it 
I would suggest that you go into the writing room 
and send a letter to your mother. I will join you 
there in half an hour and we will do whatever you 
like before I go to my meeting. How is that?” 
“Righto ! ” 

Accordingly, after breakfast was finished, Steve 
wandered off by himself in search of paper and 
ink, and so sumptuous did he find the writing ap- 
pointments that he not only dashed off a letter to 
his mother recounting some of the happenings of 
the previous day, but on discovering a rack of post 
cards he mailed to Jack Curtis, Tim Barclay, 
Bud Taylor and some of the other boys patronizing 
messages informing them that New York was 
“great” and he was sorry they were not there. In 
fact, it seemed at the moment that all those unfor- 
tunate persons who could not visit this magic city 
were to be profoundly pitied. 

In the purchase of stamps for these egoistic 
missives the remainder of the time passed, and 
before he realized the half-hour was gone, he saw 
his father standing in the doorway. 


158 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“I am going up to the room now to hunt up some 
cigars, Steve/’ announced the elder man. “Do you 
want to come along or stay here?” 

“I’ll come with you, Dad,” was the quick reply. 

The elevator shot them to the ninth floor in no 
time and soon they were in their room looking down 
on the turmoil in the street below. 

“Some city, isn’t it?” commented Mr. Tolman, 
turning away from the busy scene to rummage 
through his suit case. 

“It’s a corker!” 

“I thought you would like to go out to the 
Zoo this morning while I am busy. What do you 
say?” 

“That would be bully.” 

“It is a simple trip which you can easily make 
alone. If you like, you can start along now,” Mr. 
Tolman suggested. 

“But you said last night that if I would hurry 
to bed, to-day you would tell me about the Western 
railroads,” objected Stephen. 

He saw his father’s eyes twinkle. 

“You have a remarkable memory,” replied he. 
“I recall now that I did say something of the sort. 
But surely you do not mean that you would prefer 
to remain here and talk railroads than to go to the 
Zoo.” 

“I can go to the Zoo after you have gone out,” 
maintained Steve, standing his ground valiantly. 

“You are a merciless young begger,” grinned his 
father. “I plainly see that like Shylock you are 


THE CROSSING OF THE COUNTRY 159 

determined to have your pound of flesh. Well, 
sit down. We will talk while I smoke.” 

As the boy settled contentedly into one of the 
comfortable chintz-covered chairs, Mr. Tolman 
blew a series of delicate rings of smoke toward the 
ceiling and wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. 

“You got a pretty good idea at the theater last 
night what America was before we had trans-con- 
tinental railroads,” began he slowly. “You know 
enough of geography too, I hope, to imagine to 
some extent what it must have meant to hew a 
path across such an immense country as ours; lay 
a roadbed with its wooden ties; and transport all 
this material as well as the heavy rails necessary 
for the project. We all think we can picture to 
ourselves the enormity of the undertaking; but 
actually we have almost no conception of the diffi- 
culties such a mammoth work represented.” 

He paused, half closing his eyes amid the cloud 
of smoke. 

“To begin with, the promoters of the enterprise 
received scant encouragement to attack the prob- 
lem, for few persons of that day had much faith 
in the undertaking. In place of help, ridicule 
cropped up from many sources. It was absurd, 
the public said, to expect such a wild-cat scheme 
to succeed. Why, over six hundred miles of the 
area to be covered did not contain a tree and in 
consequence there would be nothing from which 
to make cross-ties. And where was the workmen’s 
food to come from if they were plunged into a wil- 


160 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

derness beyond the reach of civilization? The 
thing couldn’t be done. It was impossible. Of 
course it was a wonderful idea. But it never could 
be carried out. Where were the men to be found 
who would be willing to take their lives in their 
hands and set forth to work where Indians or wild 
beasts were liable to devour them at any moment? 
Moreover, to build a railroad of such length would 
take a lifetime and where was the money coming 
from? For you must remember that the men of 
that period had no such vast fortunes as many of 
them have now, and it was no easy task to finance 
a scheme where the outlay was so tremendous and 
the probability of success so shadowy. Even as 
late as 1856 the whole notion was considered vis- 
ionary by the greater part of the populace.” 

“But the fun of doing it, Dad!” ejaculated 
Stephen, with sparkling eyes. 

“The fun of it!” repeated his father with a 
shrug. “Yes, there was fun in the adventure, there 
is no denying that; and fortunately for the 
dreamers who saw the vision, men were found who 
felt precisely as you do. Youth always puts ro- 
mance above danger, and had there not been these 
romance lovers it would have gone hard with the 
trans-continental railroads. We might never have 
had them. As it was, even the men who ventured 
to cast in their lot with the promoters had the cau- 
tion to demand their pay in advance. They had 
no mind to be deluded into working for a precari- 
ous wage. At length enough toilers from the east 


THE CROSSING OF THE COUNTRY 161 

and from the west were found who were willing 
to take a chance with their physical safety, and 
the enterprise was begun.” 

Stephen straightened up in his chair. 

“Had the only obstacle confronting them been 
the reach of uncharted country ahead that would 
have been discouraging enough. Fancy pushing 
your way through eight hundred miles of terri- 
tory that had never been touched by civilization! 
And while you are imagining that, do not forget 
that the slender ribbon of track left behind was 
your only link with home; and your only hope of 
getting food, materials, and sometimes water. Ah, 
you would have had excitement enough to satisfy 
you had you been one of that company of work- 
men! On improvised trucks they put up bunks 
and here they took turns in sleeping while some of 
their party stood guard to warn them of night raids 
from Indians and wild beasts. Even in the day- 
time outposts had to be stationed; and more than 
once, in spite of every precaution, savages de- 
scended on the little groups of builders, overpow- 
ered them, and slaughtered many of the number or 
carried away their provisions and left them to 
starve. Sometimes marauders tore up the tracks, 
thereby breaking the connection with the camps 
in the rear from which aid could be summoned; 
and in early railroad literature we find many a 
tale of heroic engineers who ran their locomotives 
back through almost certain destruction in order 
to procure help for their comrades. Supply trains 


162 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

were held up and swept clean of their stores; pay- 
masters were robbed, and sometimes murdered, so 
no money reached the employees; every sort of 
calamity befell the men. Hundreds of the ten 
thousand Chinese imported to work at a micro- 
scopic wage died of sickness or exposure to the 
extreme heat or cold.” 

“Gee!” gasped Stephen, “I’d no idea it was so 
bad as all that!” 

“Most persons have but a faint conception of 
the price paid for our railways — paid not alone 
in money but in human life,” answered Mr. Tol- 
man. “The route of the western railroads, you 
see, did not lie solely through flat, thickly wooded 
country. Our great land, you must remember, is 
made up of a variety of natural formations, and 
in crossing from the Atlantic coast to that of the 
Pacific we get them one after another. In con- 
trast to the forests of mighty trees, with their 
tangled undergrowth, there were stretches of 
prairie where no hills broke the level ground; an- 
other region contained miles and miles of alkali 
desert, dry and scorching, where the sun blazed so 
fiercely down on the steel rails that they became 
too hot to touch. Here men died of sunstroke and 
of fever; and some died for want of water. Then 
directly in the railroad’s path arose the towering 
peaks of the Sierras and Rockies whose snowy 
crests must be crossed, and whose cold, storms and 
gales must be endured. Battling with these hard- 
ships the workmen were forced to drill holes in the 


THE CROSSING OF THE COUNTRY 163 

rocky summits and bolt their rough huts down to 
the earth to prevent them from being blown away.” 

“I don’t see how the thing could have been 
done!” Steve exclaimed, with growing wonder. 

“And you must not forget to add to the chapter 
of tribulations the rivers that barred the way; the 
ravines that must either be filled in or bridged ; the 
rocks that had to be blasted out; and the moun- 
tains that must be climbed or tunneled.” 

“I don’t see how they ever turned the trick! ” the 
boy repeated. 

“It is the same old tale of progress,” mused his 
father. “Over and over again, since time began, 
men have given their lives that the world might 
move forward and you and I enjoy the benefits of 
civilization. Remember it and be grateful to the 
past and to that vast army of toilers who offered 
up their all that you might, without effort, profit 
by the things it took their blood to procure. There 
is scarcely a comfort you have about you that has 
not cost myriad men labor, weariness, and perhaps 
life itself. Therefore value highly. your heritage 
and treat the fruits of all hard work with respect; 
and whenever you can fit your own small stone into 
the structure, or advance any good thing that shall 
smooth the path of those who are to follow you, 
do it as your sacred duty to those who have so un- 
selfishly builded for you.” 

There was a moment of silence and the rumble 
of the busy street rose to their ears. 

“I never shall build anything that will help the 


1 64 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

men of the future,” observed Stephen, in a low 
tone. 

“Every human being is building all the time,” 
replied his father. “He is building a strong body 
that shall mean a better race; a clean mind that 
shall mean a purer race; a loyalty to country that 
will result in finer citizenship; and a life of service 
to his fellows that will bring in time a broader 
Christianity. Will not the world be the better for 
all these things? It lies with us to carry forward 
the good and lessen the evil of the universe, or tear 
down the splendid ideals for which our fathers 
struggled and retard the upward march of the uni- 
verse. If everybody put his shoulder to the wh^el 
and helped the forward spin of our old world, how 
quickly it would become a better place!” 

As he concluded his remarks Mr. Tolman took 
out his watch. 

“Well, well!” said he. “I had no idea it was so 
late. I must hurry or I shall not finish my story.” 

“As I told you the men from the east and those 
from the west worked toward each other from op- 
posite ends of the country. As soon as short 
lengths of track were finished they were joined to- 
gether. Near the great Salt Lake of Utah a tie 
of polished laurel wood banded with silver marked 
the successful crossing of Utah’s territory. Five 
years later Nevada contributed some large silver 
spikes to join her length of track to the rest. Cali- 
fornia sent spikes of solid gold, symbolic both of 
her cooperation and her mineral wealth; Arizona 


THE CROSSING OF THE COUNTRY 165 

one of gold, one of silver, and one of iron. Many 
other States offered significant tributes of similar 
nature. And when at last the great day came when 
all the short lines were connected in one whole, 
what a celebration there was from sea to sea! 
Wires had been laid so that the hammer that drove 
the last spike sent the news to cities all over the 
land. Bells rang, whistles blew, fire alarms 
sounded. The cost of the Union Pacific was about 
thirty-nine million dollars and that of the Central 
Pacific about one hundred and forty million dollars. 
The construction of the Southern Pacific presented 
a different set of problems from those of the North- 
ern, but many of the difficulties encountered were 
the same. Bands of robbers and Indians beset the 
workmen and either cut the ties and spread the 
rails, or tore the track up altogether for long dis- 
tances. Forest fires often overtook the men be- 
fore they could escape, although trains sometimes 
contrived to get through the burning areas by 
drenching their roofs and were able to bring suc- 
cor to those in peril. Then there were wash-outs 
and snowstorms quite as severe as any experienced 
in the northern country.” 

“I’m afraid I should have given the whole thing 
up!” interrupted Steve. 

“Many another was of your mind,” returned Mr. 
Tolman. “The frightful heat encountered when 
crossing the deserts was, as I have said, the greatest 
handicap. Frequently the work was at a stand- 
still for months because all the metal — rails and 


1 66 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

tools — became too hot to handle. The difficulty 
of getting water to the men in order to keep them 
alive in this arid waste was in itself colossal. Tank 
cars were sent forward constantly on all the rail- 
roads, northern as well as southern, and the suffer- 
ing experienced when such cars were for various 
reasons stalled was tremendous. The sand storms 
along the Southern Pacific route were yet another 
menace. So you see an eagerness for adventure 
had to be balanced by a corresponding measure of 
bravery. Those early days of railroad building 
were not all romance and picturesqueness.” 

Stephen nodded as his father rose and took up 
his hat and coat. 

“I’d like to hear Mr. Ackerman tell of the 
early steamboating,” remarked the lad. “I’ll bet 
the story couldn’t match the one you have just 
told.” 

“Perhaps not,” his father replied. “Neverthe- 
less the steamships had their full share of exciting 
history and you must not be positive in your 
opinion until you have heard both tales. Now come 
along, son, if you are going with me, for I must 
be off.” 

Obediently Stephen slipped into his ulster and 
tagged at his father’s heels along the corridor. 

What a magic country he lived in! And how 
had it happened that it had been his luck to be 
born now rather than in the pioneer days when 
there were not only no railroads but no great hotels 
like this one, and no elevators? 


THE CROSSING OF THE COUNTRY 167 

“I suppose,” observed Mr. Tolman, as they went 
along, “we can hardly estimate what the coming of 
these railroads meant to the country. All the iso- 
lated sections were now blended into one vast terri- 
tory which brought the dwellers of each into a 
common brotherhood. It was no small matter to 
make a unit of a great republic like ours. The 
seafarer and the woodsman; easterner, westerner, 
northerner, and southerner exchanged visits and 
became more intelligently sympathetic. Rural dis- 
tricts were opened up and made possible for habi- 
tation. The products of the seacoast and the 
interior were interchanged. Crops could now be 
transported; material for clothing distributed; 
and coal, steel, and iron — on which our industries 
were dependent — carried wherever they were 
needed. Commerce took a leap forward and with 
it national prosperity. From now on we were no 
longer hampered in our inventions or industries and 
forced to send to England for machinery. We 
could make our own engines, manufacture our own 
rails, coal our own boilers. Distance was dimin- 
ished until it was no longer a barrier. Letters 
that it previously took days and even weeks to get 
came in hours, and the cost and time for freight 
transportation was revolutionized. In 1804, for 
example, it took four days to get a letter from 
New York to Boston; and even as late as 1817 it 
cost a hundred dollars to move a ton of freight from 
Buffalo to New York and took twenty days to do 
it. In every direction the railroads made for na- 


1 68 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

tional advancement and a more solid United States. 
No soldiers, no statesmen of our land deserve 
greater honor as useful citizens than do these men 
who braved every danger to build across the coun- 
try our trans-continental railways.” 


CHAPTER XII 

NEW PROBLEMS 

“ I have been thinking, Dad,” said Steve that 
evening, while they sat at dinner, “of the railroad 
story you told me this morning. It was some 
yarn.” His father laughed over the top of his 
coffee cup. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” replied he. “And the half 
was not told then. I was in too much of a hurry 
to give you an idea of all the trials the poor rail- 
road builders encountered. Did it occur to you, 
for example, that after the roads to the Pacific 
coast were laid their managers were confronted by 
another great difficulty, — the difference in time 
between the east and the west?” 

“I never thought of that,” was Steve’s answer. 
“Of course the time must have differed a lot.” 

“Indeed it did! Every little branch road fol- 
lowed the time peculiar to its own section of the 
country, and the task of unifying this so that a 
basis for a common time-table could be adopted 
was tremendous. A convention of scientists from 
every section of the country was called to see what 
could be done about the fifty-three different times 
in use by the various railroads,” 


170 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“Fifty-three!” ejaculated Stephen, with a grin. 
“Why, that was almost as many as Heinz pickles.” 

“In this case the results of the fifty-three vari- 
eties were far more menacing, I am afraid, than 
those of the fifty-seven,” said his father, with a 
smile, “for travel under such a regime was posi- 
tively unsafe.” 

“I can see that it would be. What did they 
do?” 

“Well, after every sort of suggestion had been 
presented it was decided to divide the country up 
into four immense parts, separated from one an- 
other by imaginary lines running north and south.” 

“Degrees of longitude?” 

“Precisely! ” returned Mr. Tolman, gratified that 
the boy had caught the point so intelligently. “The 
time of each of these sections jumped fifteen de- 
grees, or one hour, and the railroads lying in each 
district were obliged to conform to the standard 
time of their locality. Until this movement went 
into effect there had been, for example, six so- 
called standard times to reckon with in going from 
Boston to Washington.” 

“I don’t see why everybody didn’t get smashed 
up!” 

“I don’t either; and I fancy the passengers and 
the railroad people didn’t,” declared Mr. Tolman. 
“But with the new state of things the snarl was 
successfully untangled and the roads began to be 
operated on a more scientific basis. Then followed 
gradual improvements in cars which as time went 


NEW PROBLEMS 171 

on were made more comfortable and convenient. 
The invention of the steam engine and the devel- 
opment of our steel products were the two great 
factors that made our American railroads possible. 
With the trans-continental roads to carry materials 
and the opening up of our coal, iron and copper 
mines we were at last in a position to make our 
railroads successful. Then science began to evolve 
wonderful labor-saving machinery which did away 
with the slow, primitive methods our pioneer en- 
gineers had been obliged to employ. The steam 
shovel was invented, the traveling crane, the gi- 
gantic derrick, the pile driver. The early railroad 
builders had few if any of these devices and were 
forced to do by hand the work that machinery 
could have performed in much less time. When 
one thinks back it is pathetic to consider the num- 
ber of lives that were sacrificed which under pres- 
ent-day conditions might have been saved. Yet 
every great movement goes forward over the dead 
bodies of unnamed heroes. To an extent this is 
unavoidable and one of the enigmas of life. If 
every generation were as wise at the beginning as 
it is at the end there would be no progress. Never- 
theless, when you reflect that ten thousand Chinese 
and Chilean laborers died while building one of 
the South American railroads it does make us 
wonder why we should be the ones to reap the 
benefits of so much that others sowed, doesn’t it?” 
mused the boy’s father. 

“Do you mean to say that ten thousand persons 


172 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

were killed while that railroad was being built?” 
questioned Stephen, aghast. 

“They were not all killed,” was the reply. 
“Many of them died of exposure to cold, and many 
from the effects of the climate. Epidemics swept 
away hundreds of lives. This particular railroad 
was one of the mightiest engineering feats the 
world had seen for in its path lay the Andes Moun- 
tains, and there was no escape from either crossing 
or tunneling them. The great tunnel that pierces 
them at a height of 15,645 feet above sea level is 
one of the marvels of science. In various parts of 
the world there are other such monuments to man’s 
conquest of the opposing forces of nature. Honey- 
combing the Alps are spiral tunnels that curve 
round and round like corkscrews inside the moun- 
tains, rising slowly to the peaks and making it 
possible to reach the heights that must be trav- 
ersed. Among these marvels is the Simplon 
Tunnel, famous the world over. The road that 
crosses the Semmering Pass from Trieste to Vienna 
is another example of what man can do if he must. 
By means of a series of covered galleries it makes 
its way through the mountains that stretch like 
a wall between Italy and Austria. In the early 
days this territory with its many ravines and al- 
most impassable heights would have been consid- 
ered too difficult to cross. The railroad over the 
Brenner Pass between Innsbruck and Botzen pene- 
trates the mountains of the Tyrol by means of 
twenty-three tunnels.” 


NEW PROBLEMS 173 

“I learned about the St. Gothard tunnel in 
school,” Steve interrupted eagerly. 

“Yes, that is yet another of the celebrated ones,” 
his father rejoined. “In fact, there are now so 
many of these miracles of skilful railroading that 
we have almost ceased to wonder at them. Rail- 
roads thread their way up Mt. Washington, Mt. 
Rigi, and many another dizzy altitude; to say 
nothing of the cable-cars and funicular roads that 
take our breath away when they whirl us to the 
top of some mountain, either in Europe or in our 
own land. Man has left scarce a corner of our 
planet inaccessible, until now, not content with 
scaling the highest peaks by train, he has pro- 
gressed still another stage and is flying over them. 
Thus do the marvels of one age become the com- 
monplace happenings of the next. Our ancestors 
doubtless thought, when they had accomplished 
the miracles of their generation, that nothing could 
surpass them. In the same spirit we regard our 
aeroplanes and submarines with triumphant pride. 
But probably the time will come when those who 
follow us will look back on what we have done and 
laugh at our attempts just as you laughed when 
I told you of the first railroad.” 

Stephen was thoughtful for a moment. 

“IPs a great game — living — isn’t it, Dad?” 

“It is a great game if you make yourself one of 
the team and pull on the side of the world’s better- 
ment,” nodded his father. “Think what such a 
thing as the railroad has meant to millions and 


174 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

millions of people. Not only has it opened up 
a country which might have been shut away from 
civilization for centuries; but it has brought men 
all over the world closer together and made it pos- 
sible for those of one land to visit those of another 
and come into sympathy with them. Japan, China, 
and India, to say nothing of the peoples of Europe, 
are almost our neighbors in these days of ships and 
railroads.” 

“I suppose we should not have known much 
about those places, should we,” reflected the boy. 

“Certainly not so much as we do now,” was his 
father’s answer. “Of course, travelers did go to 
those countries now and then; but to get far into 
their interior in a palanquin carried by coolies, for 
example, was a pretty slow business.” 

“And uncomfortable, too,” Stephen decided. 
“I guess the natives were mighty glad to see the 
railroads coming.” 

To the lad’s surprise his father shook his head. 

“I am afraid they weren’t,” observed he rue- 
fully. “You recall how even the more civilized 
and better educated English and French opposed 
the first railroads? Well, the ignorant orientals, 
who were a hundred times more superstitious, ob- 
jected very vehemently. The Chinese in particu- 
lar feared that the innovation would put to flight 
the spirits which they believed inhabited the earth, 
air, and water. Surely, they argued, if these gods 
were disturbed, disaster to the nation must inevi- 
tably follow. It was almost impossible to convince 


NEW PROBLEMS 175 

even the more intelligent leaders that the railroad 
would be a benefit instead of a menace for before 
the ancient beliefs argument was helpless.” 

“Well, the railroads were built just the same, 
weren’t they?” 

“Yes. Fortunately some of the more enlight- 
ened were led to see the wisdom of the enterprise, 
and they converted the others to their views or else 
overrode their protests. They were like a lot of 
children who did not know what was best for them 
and as such they had to be treated. Nevertheless, 
you may be quite certain that the pioneer days of 
railroad building in the East were not pleasant 
ones. Materials had to be carried for great dis- 
tances both by water and by land. In 1864, when 
the first locomotive was taken to Ceylon, it had to 
be transported on a raft of bamboo and drawn 
from the landing place to the track by elephants.” 

“Humph ! ” chuckled Steve. “It’s funny to think 
of, isn’t it?” 

“More funny to think of than to do, I guess,” 
asserted his father. “Still it is the battle against 
obstacles that makes life interesting, and in spite 
of all the hardships I doubt if those first railroad 
men would have missed the adventure of it all. 
Out of their resolution, fearlessness and vision 
came a wonderful fulfillment, and it must have 
been some satisfaction to know that they had done 
their share in bringing it about.” 

“I suppose that is what Mr. Ackerman meant 


176 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

when he spoke of the history of steamboating,” 
said the boy slowly. 

“Yes. He and his family had a hand in that 
great game and I do not wonder he is proud of it. 
And speaking of Mr. Ackerman reminds me that 
he called up this afternoon to ask if you would 
like to take a motor-ride with him to-morrow 
morning while I am busy.” 

“You bet I would!” was the fervent reply. 

“I thought as much, so I made the engagement 
for you. He is coming for you at ten o’clock. And 
he will have quite a surprise for you, too.” 

“What is it?” the boy asked eagerly. 

“It is not my secret to tell,” was the provok- 
ing answer. “You will know it in good time.” 

“To-morrow?” 

“I think so, yes.” 

“Can’t you tell me anything about it?” 

“Nothing but that you were indirectly respon- 
sible for it.” 

“I!” gasped Stephen. 

Mr. Tolman laughed. 

“That will give you something to wonder and to 
dream about,” he responded, rising from the table. 
“Let us see how much of a Sherlock Holmes you 
are.” 

Steve’s mind immediately began to speculate 
rapidly on his father’s enigmatic remark. All the 
way up in the elevator he pondered over the conun- 
drum; and all the evening he turned it over in his 
mind. At last, tired with the day’s activities, he 


NEW PROBLEMS 


177 

went to bed, hoping that dreams might furnish him 
with a solution of the riddle. But although he 
slept hard no dreams came and morning found him 
no nearer the answer than he had been before. 

He must wait patiently for Mr. Ackerman to 
solve the puzzle. 


CHAPTER XIII 


DICK MAKES HIS SECOND APPEARANCE 

When Mr. Ackerman’s car rolled up to the 
hotel later in the morning the puzzle no longer 
lacked a solution for in the automobile beside the 
steamboat magnate sat Dick Martin, the lad of 
the pocketbook adventure. At first glance Steve 
scarcely recognized the boy, such a transformation 
had taken place in his appearance. He wore a new 
suit of blue serge, a smartly cut reefer, shiny shoes, 
a fresh cap, and immaculate linen. Soap and 
water, as well as a proper style of haircut had 
added their part to the miracle until now, with face 
glowing and eyes alight with pleasure, Dick was as 
attractive a boy as one would care to see. 

“I have brought Dick along with me, you see,” 
the New Yorker explained, when the three were in 
the car and speeding up Fifth Avenue. “He and 
I have been shopping and now he is coming home 
to stay with me until we hear from one of the 
schools to which I have written. If they can find 
a place for him he will start at once. Then he is 
going to study hard and see what sort of a man he 
can make of himself. I expect to be very proud of 
him some day.” 


DICK’S SECOND APPEARANCE 179 

The lad flushed. 

“I am going to do my best,” said he, in a low 
tone. 

“That is all any one can do, sonny,” declared 
Mr. Ackerman kindly. “You’ll win out. Don’t 
you worry! I’m not.” 

He smiled and Dick smiled back timidly. 

“Have you been up to Mr. Ackerman’s house 
yet and seen the boats?” Stephen asked, to break 
the pause that fell between them. 

“His collection, you mean? Sure ! I’m — stay- 
ing there.” 

“Living there, sonny,” put in the financier. 

“Then I suppose he’s told you all about them,” 
went on Stephen, a hint of envy in his tone. 

“I haven’t yet,” laughed their host, “for there 
hasn’t been time. Dick only left the hotel yester- 
day and we have had a great deal to do since. We 
had to go to his lodgings and say good-by to the 
people there who have been kind to him and tell 
them why he was not coming back. And then there 
were errands and many other things to see to. So 
he has not been at home much yet,” concluded 
Mr. Ackerman, with a kindly emphasis on the 
final sentence. 

Dick beamed but it was evident that the magni- 
tude of his good fortune had left him too over- 
whelmed for words. 

Perhaps neither of the boys minded that there 
was little conversation during the drive for there 
was plenty to see and to Dick Martin, at least, an 


180 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

automobile ride was such an uncommon experience 
that it needed no embellishments. They rode up 
Morningside Drive and back again, looking down 
on the river as they went, and exclaiming when 
some unusual craft passed them. Evidently Mr. 
Ackerman was quite content to let matters take 
their natural course; but he was not unmindful of 
his guests and when at last he saw a shadow of 
fatigue circle Dick’s eyes and give place to the glow 
of excitement that had lighted them he said: 

“Now suppose we go back to the house for a 
while. We have an hour or more before Stephen 
has to rejoin his father and you two chaps can 
poke about the suite. What do you say?” 

Steve was all enthusiasm. He had been quietly 
hoping there would be a chance for him to have 
another peep at the wonderful steamboats. 

“I’d like nothing better!” was his instant reply. 
“I did not see half I wanted to when I was there 
before, and we go home to-morrow, you know. If 
I don’t see your ships and things to-day I never 
shall.” 

“Oh, don’t say that!” Mr. Ackerman said 
quickly. “You and Dick and I are going to be 
great friends. We are not going to say good-by 
and never see one another any more. Sometime 
you will be coming to New York again, I hope. 
However, if he wants to have a second glimpse of 
our boats now we’ll let him, won’t we, Dick?” 

Again the boy smiled a timid smile into his bene- 
factor’s face. 



“I wish you’d tell me about this queer little old-fashioned boat.” 

Page 181. 









DICK’S SECOND APPEARANCE 181 

It did not take long to reach the house and soon 
the three were in the wonderful room with its pan- 
orama of ships moving past the windows and its 
flotilla of still more ships decorating the walls. 

“Now you boys go ahead and entertain your- 
selves as you please,” Mr. Ackerman said. “I am 
going to sit here and read the paper; but if there 
is anything you want to ask me you are welcome 
to do so.” 

Stephen strolled over to the mantelpiece and 
stood before the model of the quaint side-wheeler 
that had held his attention at the time of his first 
visit ; then he stole a furtive glance at the man in 
the big chair. 

“Did you really mean, Mr. Ackerman,” he fal- 
tered, “that we could ask you questions?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Then I wish you’d tell me about this queer little 
old-fashioned boat, and how you happened to put 
it between this up-to-date ocean liner and this 
battleship.” 

The elder man looked up. 

“That boat that interests you is a model of Ful- 
ton’s steamboat — or at least as near a model as I 
could get,” explained he. “I put it there to show 
the progress we have made in shipbuilding since 
that day.” 

Steve laughed. 

“I see the progress all right,” replied he, “but 
I am afraid I do not know much about Fulton and 
his side-wheeler.” 


182 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Mr. Ackerman let the paper slip into his lap. 

“I assumed every boy who went to school 
learned about Robert Fulton,” answered he, half 
teasingly and yet with real surprise. 

“I suppose I ought to have learned about him,” 
retorted Stephen, with ingratiating honesty, “and 
maybe I did once. But if I did I seem to have for- 
gotten about it. You see there are such a lot of 
those old chaps who did things that I get them all 
mixed up.” 

Apparently the sincerity of the confession 
pleased the capitalist for he laughed. 

“I know! ” returned he sympathetically. “Every 
year more and more things roll up to remember, 
don’t they? Had we lived long ago, before so many 
battles and discoveries had taken place, and so 
many books been written, life would have been 
much simpler. Now the learning of all the ages 
comes piling down on our heads.. But at least you 
can congratulate yourself that you are not so badly 
off as the boys will be a hundred years hence ; they, 
poor things, will have to learn all about what we 
have been doing, and if the world progresses as 
rapidly in history and in science as it is doing now, 
I pity them. Not only will they have to go back 
to Fulton but to him they will probably have to 
add a score of other inventors.” 

Both boys joined in the steamboat man’s hearty 
laugh. 

“Well, who was Fulton, anyway, Mr. Acker- 
man?” Stephen persisted. 


DICK’S SECOND APPEARANCE 183 

“If you want me to tell you that Robert Fulton 
was the first American to make a successful steam- 
boat I can give you that information in a second/’ 
was the reply. “But if you wish to hear how he 
did it that is a much longer story.” 

“I like stories/’ piped Dick from the corner of 
the couch where he was sitting. 

“So do I,” echoed Steve. 

“Then I see there is no help for me!” Mr. Acker- 
man answered, taking off his spectacles and put- 
ting them into the case. 

With an anticipatory smile Stephen seated him- 
self on the great leather divan beside the other boy. 

“Before the steamboat came,” began Mr. Acker- 
man, “you must remember that paddle wheels had 
long been used, for both the Egyptians and the 
Romans had built galleys with oars that moved by 
a windlass turned by the hands of slaves or by 
oxen. Later there were smaller boats whose paddle 
wheels were driven by horses. So you see paddle 
wheels were nothing new; the world was just wait- 
ing for something that would turn them around. 
After the Marquis of Worcester had made his 
steam fountain he suggested that perhaps this 
power might be used to propel a boat but unfor- 
tunately he died before any experiments with the 
idea could be made. Various scientists, however, 
in Spain, France, England and Scotland caught up 
the plan but after struggling unsuccessfully with 
it for a time abandoned it as impractical. In 1802 
Lord Dundas, a proprietor in one of the English 


184 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

canals, made an encouraging start by using a tow- 
boat with a paddle wheel at its stern. But alas, 
this contrivance kicked up such a fuss in the narrow 
stream that it threatened to tear the banks along 
the edge all to pieces and therefore it was given 
up and for ten years afterward there was no more 
steamboating in England.” 

The boys on the couch chuckled. 

“In the meantime in America thoughtful men 
were mulling over the problem of steam navigation. 
Watt’s engine had opened to the minds of inven- 
tors endless possibilities; and the success of the 
early railroads made many persons feel that a 
new era of science, whose wonders had only begun 
to unfold, was at hand. In Connecticut there lived 
a watchmaker by the name of John Fitch, who, al- 
though he knew little of the use of steam, knew 
much about machinery. Through the aid of a com- 
pany that furnished him with the necessary money 
he built a steamboat which was tried out in 1787 
and made three miles an hour. Of course it was 
not a boat like any of ours for it was propelled by 
twelve oars, or paddles, operated by a very primi- 
tive steam engine. Nevertheless, it was the fore- 
runner of later and better devices of a similar 
nature, and therefore Fitch is often credited with 
being the inventor of the steamboat. Perhaps, had 
he been able to go on with his schemes, he might 
have given the world something really significant 
in this direction; but as it was he simply pointed 
the way. His money gave out, the company 


DICK’S SECOND APPEARANCE 185 

would do nothing further for him, and after 
building a second boat that could go eight miles 
an hour instead of three he became discouraged 
and intemperate and let his genius go to ruin, 
dying later in poverty — a sad end to a life that 
might well have been a brilliant one. After Fitch 
came other experimenters, among them Oliver 
Evans of Philadelphia who seems to have been a 
man of no end of inventive vision.” 

“Wasn’t he the one who tried sails on a railroad 
train?” inquired Steve, noting with pleasure the 
familiar name. 

“He was that very person,” nodded Mr. Acker- 
man. “He evidently had plenty of ideas; the only 
trouble was that they did not work very well. He 
had already applied steam to mills and wagons, and 
now he wanted to see what he could do with it 
aboard a boat. Either he was very impractical or 
else hard luck pursued his undertakings. At any 
rate, he had a boat built in Kentucky, an engine 
installed on it, and then he had the craft floated 
to New Orleans from which point he planned to 
make a trip up the Mississippi. But alas, before 
his boat was fully ready, there was a drop in the 
river and the vessel was left high and dry on the 
shore.” 

“Jove!” exclaimed Dick involuntarily. 

“Pretty tough, wasn’t it?” remarked Mr. Acker- 
man. 

“What did he do then?” demanded Stephen, 
“Did he resurrect the boat?” 


1 86 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“No, it did not seem to be any use; instead he 
had the engine and boiler taken out and put into 
a saw mitt where once again hard luck pursued him, 
for the mill was burned not long after. That was 
the end of Oliver Evans’s steamboating.” 

Mr. Ackerman paused thoughtfully. 

“Now while Fitch and those following him were 
working at the steamboat idea here in America, 
Robert Fulton, also a native of this country, was 
turning the notion over in his mind. Strangely 
enough, he had not intended to be an inventor for 
he was in France, studying to be a painter. During 
a visit to England he had already met several men 
who were interested in the steam engine and 
through them had informed himself pretty thor- 
oughly about the uses and action of steam. In 
Paris he made the acquaintance of a Mr. Barlow 
and the two decided to raise funds and build a 
steamboat to run on the Rhone. This they did, 
but unfortunately the boat sank before any degree 
of success had been achieved. Then Fulton, not 
a whit discouraged, told the French Government 
that if they would furnish the money he would 
build a similar boat to navigate the Seine. The 
French, however, had no faith in the plan and 
promptly refused to back it.” 

“I’ll bet they wished afterward they had!” in- 
terrupted Dick. 

“I presume they did,” agreed Mr. Ackerman. 
“It is very easy to see one’s mistakes after a thing 
is all over. Anyway, Mr. Barlow came back to 


DICK’S SECOND APPEARANCE 187 

America, where Fulton joined him, and immedi- 
ately the latter went to building a steamboat that 
should be practical. On his way home he had 
stopped in England and purchased various parts 
for his engine and when he got to New York he 
had these set up in an American boat. You must 
not for a moment imagine that everything about 
this first steamboat of Fulton’s was original. On 
the contrary he combined what was best in the ex- 
periments of previous inventors. He adopted the 
English type of engine, the side paddle, everything 
that seemed to him workable. Barlow and a rich 
New Yorker named Livingston backed the enter- 
prise. Now some time before the State of New 
York, half in jest and half in irony, had granted 
to Livingston the sole right to navigate the New 
York waters by means of ships driven by steam 
or fire engines. At the time the privilege had 
caused much mirth for there were nothing but 
sailing ships in existence, and there was no pros- 
pect of there ever being any other kind of vessel. 
Hence the honor was a very empty one and nobody 
expected a time would arrive when it would ever 
be of any value to its owner. But Livingston was 
a shrewder and more far-seeing man than were the 
old legislators at Albany, and to Fulton he was an 
indispensable ally.” 

The boy listened breathlessly. 

“How these three men managed to keep their 
secret so well is a mystery; but apparently they did, 
and when Fulton suddenly appeared on the Hud- 


1 88 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

son with a steamboat named the Clermont for Mr. 
Livingston’s country seat on the Palisades, the 
public was amazed. A model of the boat with a 
miniature engine had previously been tried out so 
the three promoters had little doubt that their 
project would work, and it did. As the new craft 
moved along without any sails to propel it the sen- 
sation it made was tremendous. People were di- 
vided as to whether to flee from it in terror or 
linger and marvel at it. It is a pity that the news- 
papers of the period did not take the advent of this 
remarkable invention more seriously for it would 
have been interesting to know more of the impres- 
sion it created. As it was little is recorded about 
it. Probably the very silence of the press is sig- 
nificant of the fact that there was scant faith in 
the invention, and that it was considered too 
visionary a scheme to dignify with any notice. 
However that may be, the newspapers passed this 
wonderful event by with almost no comment. His- 
tory, however, is more generous and several amus- 
ing stories have come down to us of the fright the 
Clermont caused as she crept along the river at 
dusk with a shower of vermilion sparks rising from 
her funnel. One man who came around a bend of 
the stream in his boat and encountered the strange 
apparition for the first time told his wife afterward 
that he had met the devil traveling the river in a 
sawmill.” 

There was a shout of laughter from the boys. 

“The trial trip, to which many distinguished 


DICK’S SECOND APPEARANCE 189 

guests were invited, took place a few days later, 
and after improving some of the defects that 
cropped up the steamboat was advertised to run 
regularly between New York and Albany. Now 
if you think this announcement was hailed with 
joy you are much mistaken,” continued Mr. Acker- 
man, smiling to himself at some memory that evi- 
dently amused him. “On the contrary the owners 
of the sailing ships which up to this time had had 
the monopoly of traffic were furious with rage. So 
vehemently did they maintain that the river be- 
longed to them that at last the matter went to the 
courts and Daniel Webster was retained as Fulton’s 
counsel. The case attracted wide attention 
throughout the country, and when it was decided 
in Fulton’s favor there was great excitement. 
Every sort of force was brought to bear to thwart 
the new steamboat company. Angry opponents 
tried to blow up the boat as it lay at the dock; at- 
tempts were made to burn it. At length affairs 
became so serious that a clause was appended to 
the court’s decree which made it a public crime 
punishable by fine or imprisonment to attempt to 
injure the Clermont.” 

Mr. Ackerman paused to light a fresh cigar. 

“From the moment the law took this stand the 
success of the undertaking became assured and it 
is interesting to see how quickly the very men who 
jeered loudest at the enterprise now came fawning 
and begging to have a part in it. Other steam- 
boats were added to the line and soon rival firms 


i 9 o STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

began to construct steamboats of their own and 
try to break up Fulton’s monopoly of the waters 
of the State. For years costly lawsuits raged, and 
in defiance of the right the New York legislature 
had granted to Livingston, the fiercest competition 
took place. Sometime I should like to tell you 
more of this phase of the story for it is a very ex- 
citing and interesting yarn. Yet in spite of all the 
strife and hatred that pursued him Fulton’s river- 
boats and ferries continued to run.” 

“The State stuck to its bargain, then,” mur- 
mured Steve, “and left Livingston the rights 
awarded him?” 

“No,” replied Mr. Ackerman. “For a time they 
clung to their agreement; but at last the courts 
withdrew the right as illegal, and poor Livingston, 
who had sunk the greater part of his fortune in the 
steamboat business, lived to see the fruit of his 
toil wrested from him. In point of fact, I believe 
the decision of the courts to have been a just one 
for no one person or group of persons should con- 
trol the waterways of the country. You can see 
the wisdom of this yourself. Nevertheless, the 
decree hit Livingston pretty hard. It was the first 
step in the destruction of a monopoly,” added Mr. 
Ackerman whimsically. “Since then such decrees 
have become common happenings in America, 
monopolies being considered a menace to national 
prosperity. Certainly in this case it was well that 
the Supreme Court of the United States decided 
that all waters of the country should be free to 


DICK’S SECOND APPEARANCE 191 

navigators, no matter in what kind of vessel they 
chose to sail.” 

“It was tough on Fulton and his friends, though, 
wasn’t it?” observed Dick, who was plainly un- 
convinced as many another had been of the justice 
of the arguments. 

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Ackerman, smiling into his 
troubled eyes, “I grant you it was tough on them.” 


CHAPTER XIV 

A STEAMBOAT TRIP BY RAIL 

It was with a sense of deep regret that Stephen 
bade good-by to Mr. Ackerman and Dick and re- 
turned to the hotel to join his father. For the 
steamboat financier he had established one of those 
ardent admirations which a boy frequently cher- 
ishes toward a man of attractive personality who 
is older than himself ; and for Dick he had a genu- 
ine liking. There was a quality very winning in 
the youthful East-sider and now that the chance 
for betterment had come his way Steve felt sure 
that the boy would make good. There was a lot 
of pluck and grit in that wiry little frame; a lot 
of honesty too, Stephen reflected, with a blush. 
He was not at all sure but that in the matter of 
fearlessness and moral courage the New York lad 
had the lead of him. Certainly he was not one 
who shrank from confessing when he had been at 
fault which, Steve owned with shame, could not 
be said of himself. 

For several days he had not thought of his auto- 
mobile escapade but now once more it came to his 
mind, causing a cloud to chase the joyousness from 
his face. Alas, was he never to be free of the nag- 


A STEAMBOAT TRIP BY RAIL 193 

ging mortification that had followed that single 
act? Was it always to lurk in the background and 
make him ashamed to confront the world squarely? 
Well, it was no use regretting it now. He had made 
his choice and he must abide by it. 

Nevertheless he was not quite so spontaneously 
happy when he met his father at luncheon and re- 
counted to him the happenings of the morning. 

“Mr. Ackerman is taking a big chance with that 
boy,” was Mr. Tolman’s comment, when a pause 
came in the narrative. “I only hope he will not 
disappoint him. There must be a great difference 
between the standards of the two. However, Dick 
has some fine characteristics to build on — honesty 
and manliness. I think the fact that he showed no 
coward blood and was ready to stand by what he 
had done appealed to Ackerman. It proved that 
although they had not had the same opportunity 
in life they at least had some good stuff in common. 
You can’t do much with a boy who isn’t honest.” 

Stephen felt the blood beating in his cheeks. 

Fortunately his father did not notice his em- 
barrassment and as they soon were on their way 
to a picture show the memory that had so impor- 
tunately raised its unwelcome head was banished 
by the stirring story of a Californian gold mine. 
Therefore by the time Stephen was ready to go 
to bed the ghost that haunted him was once more 
thrust into the background and he had gained his 
serenity. No, he was not troubled that night by 
dreams of his folly nor did he awaken with any 


i 9 4 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

remembrance of it. Instead he and his father 
chatted as they packed quite as pleasantly as if no 
specter stood between them. 

“Well, son, have you enjoyed your holiday ?” 
inquired Mr. Tolman, as they settled themselves 
in the great plush chairs of the parlor car and 
waited for the train to start. 

“Yes, I’ve had a bully time, Dad.” 

“I’m glad of that,” was the kind reply. “It was 
unlucky that my business took up so much more 
of my time than I had expected and that I had to 
leave you to amuse yourself instead of going about 
with you, as I had planned. It was too bad. How- 
ever, if you have managed to get some fun out of 
your visit that is the main thing. In fact, I am 
not sure but that you rather enjoyed going about 
alone,” concluded he mischievously. 

Stephen smiled but did not reply. There was 
no denying that he had found being his own master 
a pleasant experience which had furnished him with 
a gratifying sense of freedom and belief in his own 
importance. What a tale he would have to tell 
the fellows at home ! And how shocked his mother 
would be to hear that he had been turned loose 
in a great city in this unceremonious fashion! He 
could hear her now saying to his father: 

“I don’t see what you were thinking of, Henry, 
to let Stephen tear about all alone in a city like 
New York. I should have worried every instant 
if I had known what he was doing. Suppose any- 
thing had happened to him!” 


A STEAMBOAT TRIP BY RAIL 195 

Well, mercifully, nothing had happened, — that 
is, nothing worse than his falling into the hands of 
a detective and being almost arrested for robbery, 
reflected the boy with a grin. 

Perhaps Mr. Tolman interpreted his thoughts 
for presently he observed with a smile: 

“It is time you were branching out some for 
yourself, anyway, son. You are old enough now 
to be treated like a man, not like a little boy.” 

As he spoke he looked toward Stephen with an 
expression of such pride and affection that the 
force of it swept over the lad as it never had done 
before. What a bully sort his father was, he sud- 
denly thought; and how genuinely he believed in 
him! Why not speak out now and clear up the 
wretched deception he had practiced, and start 
afresh with a clean conscience? With impulsive 
resolve he gripped the arms of the chair and pulled 
himself together for his confession. But just at 
the crucial moment there was a stir in the aisle and 
a porter followed by two belated passengers 
hurried into the train which was on the brink of 
departure. That they had made their connection 
by a very narrow margin was evident in their ap- 
pearance, for both were hot and out of breath, and 
the stout colored porter puffed under the stress of 
his haste and the heavy luggage which weighed 
him down. 

“It’s these two chairs, sir,” he gasped, as he 
tossed the new leather suit case into the rack. “Is 
there anything else I can do for you?” 


196 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“No,” replied the traveler, thrusting a bill into 
the darkey’s hand. Already the train was moving. 
“Keep the change,” he added quickly. 

“Thank you, sir! Thank you!” stammered the 
vanishing negro. 

“Well, we caught it, didn’t we, Dick? It didn’t 
look at one time as if it were possible. That block 
of cars on the avenue was terrible. But we are 
off now! It was about the closest shave I ever 
made.” Then he turned around. “Hullo!” he 
cried. “Who’s this? Bless my soul!” 

Both Mr. Tolman and Steve joined in the laugh 
of amazement. 

“Well, if this isn’t a great note!” went on Mr. 
Ackerman, still beaming with surprise. “I thought 
you people were not going until the afternoon 
train.” 

“I managed to finish up my business yesterday 
and get off earlier than I planned,” Mr. Tolman 
explained. “But I did not know you had any in- 
tention of going in this direction.” 

“I hadn’t until this morning,” laughed the finan- 
cier. “Then a telegram arrived saying they could 
take Dick at the New Haven school to which I had 
written if he entered right away, at the beginning 
of the term. So I dropped everything and here we 
are en route . It was rather short notice and things 
were a bit hectic; but by turning the whole apart- 
ment upside down, rushing our packing, and keep- 
ing the telephone wire hot we contrived to make 
the train.” 


A STEAMBOAT TRIP BY RAIL 197 

“It is mighty nice for us,” put in Mr. Tolman 
cordially. “So Dick is setting forth on his edu- 
cation, is he?” 

“Yes, he is starting out to make of himself a 
good scholar, a good sport, a good athlete, and I 
hope a good man,” returned the New Yorker. 

“A pretty big order, isn’t it, Dick?” laughed Mr. 
Tolman. 

“It seems so,” returned the boy. 

“It is not a bit too big,” interrupted Mr. Acker- 
man. “Dick knows he hasn’t got to turn the trick 
all in a minute. He and I understand such things 
take time. But they can be done and we expect 
we are going to do them.” 

He flashed one of his rare smiles toward his pro- 
tege and the lad smiled back frankly. 

“I expect so, too,” echoed Mr. Tolman. “You’ve 
got plenty of backers behind you, Dick, and you 
have a clear path ahead. That is all any boy 
needs.” 

“You’re going back to school, aren’t you, 
youngster?” Mr. Ackerman suddenly inquired of 
Stephen. 

“Yes, sir. I start in next week.” 

“Decided yet whether you will be a railroad man 
like your Dad, or a steamboat man like me?” went 
on the New Yorker facetiously. 

“Not yet.” 

“Oh, for shame! It should not take you any 
time at all to decide a question like that,” the capi- 
talist asserted teasingly. “What’s hindering you? ” 


198 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Stephen gave a mischievous chuckle. 

“I can't decide until I have heard both sides," 
said he. “So far I know only half the steamboat 
story." 

“I see ! In other words you think that between 
here and New Haven I might beguile the time by 
going on with the yarn I began yesterday." 

“That thought crossed my mind, sir, — yes." 

“You should go into the diplomatic service, 
young man. Your talents are being wasted," ob- 
served Mr. Ackerman good-humoredly. “Well, I 
suppose I could romance for the benefit of you two 
boys for part of the way, at least. It will give your 
father, Steve, a chance to go into the other car and 
smoke. Where did we break off our story? Do 
you remember?" 

“Where the United States said anybody had the 
right to sail anywhere he wanted to, in any kind 
of a boat he chose," piped Dick with promptness. 

“Yes, yes. I recall it all now," said Mr. Acker- 
man. “The courts withdrew the grant giving Liv- 
ingston the sole right to navigate the waters of 
New York State by means of steamboats. So you 
want to hear more about it, do you?" 

“Yes! ” came simultaneously from both the boys. 

“Then all aboard! Tolman, you can read, or run 
off and enjoy your cigar. We are going on a steam- 
boat cruise." 

“Push off! You won't bother me," was the tol- 
erant retort, as the elder man unfolded the morning 
paper. 


A STEAMBOAT TRIP BY RAIL 199 

Mr. Ackerman cleared his throat. 

“ Before this decree to give everybody an equal 
chance in navigating the waters of the country was 
handed down by the courts,” he began, “various 
companies, in defiance of Livingston’s contract, 
began building and running steamboats on the 
Hudson. Two rival boats were speedily in opera- 
tion and it was only after a three years’ lawsuit 
that they were legally condemned and handed over 
to Fulton to be broken up. Then the ferryboat 
people got busy and petitioned the New York Leg- 
islature for the right to run their boats to and fro 
between the New York and New Jersey sides of 
the river, and it is interesting to remember that it 
was on one of these ferry routes that Cornelius 
Vanderbilt, the great American financier, began 
his career.” 

“I never knew that!” ejaculated Dick, intent on 
the story. 

“After the ruling of the Supreme Court in 1818 
that all the waters of the country were free there 
was a rush to construct and launch steamers on the 
Hudson. The route was, you see, not only the 
most direct one between Albany and New York 
but it also lay in the line of travel between the 
eastern States and those of the west which were 
just being opened to traffic by the railroads and 
ships of the Great Lakes. Now you must not for 
a moment imagine that in those days there were 
any such vast numbers of persons traversing the 
country as there are now. Our early Americans 


200 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

worked hard and possessed only comparatively 
small fortunes so they had little money to throw 
away on travel simply for its own sake; moreover 
the War of 1812 had left the country poor. Never- 
theless there were a good many persons who were 
obliged to travel, and it followed that each of the 
Hudson River lines of steamers was eager to secure 
their patronage. Hence a bitter competition arose 
between the rival steamboat companies.” 

He paused and smiled whimsically at some mem- 
ory that amused him. 

“Every inducement was offered the public by 
these battling forces. The older vessels were 
scrapped or reduced to tug service and finer steam- 
boats were built; and once upon the water the 
engines were driven at full speed that quicker trips 
might lure passengers to patronize the swifter 
boats. Captains and firemen pitted their energies 
against one another and without scruple raced their 
ships, with the result that there were many acci- 
dents. In spite of this, however, the rivalry grew 
rather than diminished.” 

“It must have been great sport,” remarked 
Stephen. 

“Oh, there was sport in plenty,” nodded Mr. 
Ackerman. “Had you lived during those first days 
of Hudson River transportation you would have 
seen all the sport you wanted to see, for the steam- 
boat feud raged with fury, the several companies 
trying their uttermost to get the trade away from 
the Fulton people and from one another. Money 


A STEAMBOAT TRIP BY RAIL 201 

became no object, the only aim being to win in the 
game. Fares were reduced from ten dollars to 
one, and frequently passengers were carried for 
nothing simply for the sheer spite of getting them 
away from other lines. Vanderbilt was in the thick 
of the fray, having now accumulated sufficient for- 
tune to operate no less than fifty boats. Among 
the finest vessels were those of the Emerald Line; 
and the Swallow and the Rochester , two of the 
speediest rivals, were continually racing each other. 
The devices resorted to in order to ensnare pas- 
sengers were very amusing: some boats carried 
bands; others served free meals; and because there 
were few newspapers in those days, and only 
limited means for advertising, runners were hired to 
go about the city or waylay prospective travelers at 
the docks and try to coax them into making their 
trip by some particular steamer.” 

“That was one way of getting business!” 
laughed Steve. 

“And often a very effective way, too,” rejoined 
Mr. Ackerman. “In June of 1847 a tremendously 
exciting race took place between the Oregon and 
the Vanderbilt, then a new boat, for a thousand 
dollars a side. The steamers left the Battery at 
eleven o’clock in the morning and a dense crowd 
turned out to see them start. For thirty miles they 
kept abreast; then the Oregon gained half a length 
and in passing the other boat bumped into her, 
damaging her wheelhouse. It was said at the time 
that the disaster was not wholly an accident. Cer- 


202 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

tainly there were grounds for suspicion. As you 
may imagine, the calamity roused the rage of the 
competing boat. But the commander of the 
Oregon was undaunted by what he had done. All 
he wished was to win the race and that he was de- 
termined to do. He got up a higher and higher 
pressure of steam, and used more and more coal 
until, when it was time to return to New York, he 
discovered that his supply had given out and that 
he had no more fuel.” 

“And he had to give up the race?” queried Dick 
breathlessly. 

“Not he! He wasn’t the giving-up kind,” said 
Mr. Ackerman. “Finding nothing at hand to run 
his boilers with he ordered all the expensive fittings 
of the boat to be torn up and cast into the fire — 
woodwork, furniture, carvings; anything that 
would burn. In that way he kept up his furious 
rate of speed and came in victorious by the rather 
close margin of twelve hundred feet.” 

“Bully for him!” cried Dick. 

But Stephen did not echo the applause. 

“It was not a square race,” he said, “and he had 
no right to win. Anyway, his steamboat must have 
been pretty well ruined.” 

“I fancy it was an expensive triumph,” owned 
Mr. Ackerman. “Without doubt it cost much 
more than the thousand dollars he won to repair 
the vessel. Still, he had the glory, and perhaps it 
was worth it to the company.” 

“Were there other races like that?” Dick asked. 


A STEAMBOAT TRIP BY RAIL 203 

“Yes, for years the racing went on until there 
were so many fires, explosions and collisions, that 
the steamer inspection law was put through to regu- 
late the conditions of travel. It certainly was high 
time that something was done to protect the public, 
too, for such universal recklessness prevailed that 
everybody was in danger. Boats were overloaded; 
safety valves were plugged; boilers carried several 
times as much steam as they had any right to do, 
and many lives had been sacrificed before the gov- 
ernment stepped in and put a stop to this strife 
for fame and money. Since then the traffic on the 
Hudson has dropped to a plane of sanity and is now 
carried on by fine lines of boats that conform to 
the rules for safety and efficient service.” 

“And what became of Mr. Vanderbilt?” interro- 
gated Dick, who was a New Yorker to the core 
and had no mind to lose sight of the name with 
which he was familiar. 

“Oh, Mr. Vanderbilt was a man who had many 
irons in the fire,” replied Mr. Ackerman, smiling 
at the boy’s eagerness. “He did not need to be 
pitied for just about this time gold was discovered 
in California and as the interest of the country 
swung in that direction Vanderbilt, ever quick to 
seize an opening wherever it presented itself, with- 
drew some of his steamers from the Hudson and 
headed them around to the Pacific coast instead.” 

“And your family, Mr. Ackerman, were mixed 
up in all this steamboat rumpus?” commented 
Steve suddenly. 


204 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“Yes, my grandfather was one of the Hudson 
River racers and quite as bad as the rest of them,” 
the man replied. “Nevertheless he was a stanch, 
clever old fellow, and because he did his part 
toward building up the commerce and prosperity 
of the nation I have always regarded him with the 
warmest respect. I do not approve of all his 
methods, however, any more than I approve of 
many of the cut-throat business methods of to-day 
which sometime will be looked back upon with as 
much shame as these have been. There are mo- 
ments, I must confess, when I wonder if we, with all 
our supposed enlightenment, have made any very 
appreciable advance over the frank and open racing 
done by our forefathers on the Hudson,” reflected 
he half-humorously. “Perhaps we are a trifle more 
humane; and yet there is certainly much to be 
desired in the way we still sacrifice the public to 
our greed for money. An evil sometimes has to 
come to a climax to make us conscious of our in- 
justice. Let us hope that our generation will not 
be so blind that it will not heed the warnings of 
its conscience, and instead delay until some such 
catastrophe comes upon it as pursued the racing 
boats of the Hudson River.” 


CHAPTER XV 

THE ROMANCE OF THE CLIPPER SHIP 

It was with genuine regret that Mr. Tolman and 
Stephen parted from Mr. Ackerman and Dick when 
the train reached New Haven. 

“We shall not say good-by to Dick/’ Mr. Tol- 
man declared, “for he is not to be very far away 
and I hope sometime he will come to Coventry and 
spend a holiday with us. Why don’t you plan to 
do that too, Ackerman? Run over from New York 
for Thanksgiving and bring the boy with you. Why 
not?” 

“That is very kind of you.” 

“But I mean it,” persisted Mr. Tolman. “It is 
no perfunctory invitation. Plan to do it. We 
should all be delighted to have you. There is noth- 
ing in the world Mrs. Tolman loves better than 
a houseful of guests. Doris will be home from 
college and I should like you to see what a fine 
big daughter I have. As for Steve — ” 

“I wish you would come, Mr. Ackerman,” in- 
terrupted the boy. 

Mr. Ackerman hesitated. 

“I tell you what we’ll do,” replied he at length. 
“We’ll leave it to Dick. If he makes a good record 


206 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

at school and earns the holiday we will accept your 
invitation. If he doesn’t we won’t come. Is that 
a bargain, youngster?” he concluded, turning to 
the lad at his side. 

The boy flushed. 

“It is a rather stiff one, sir,” he answered, with 
a laughing glance. 

“I think that’s playing for too high stakes, Ac- 
kerman,” Mr. Tolman objected. “It is a little 
rough to put all the burden on Dick. Suppose we 
divide up the responsibility and foist half of it on 
Stephen? Let us say you will come if both boys 
make good in their studies and conduct.” 

Dick drew a breath of relief at the words, re- 
garding the speaker with gratitude. 

“That is a squarer deal, isn’t it?” continued Mr. 
Tolman. 

“I think so — yes,” was Dick’s response. 

“And you, Steve — do you subscribe to the con- 
tract?” 

“Yes, I’ll sign,” grinned Stephen. 

“Then the agreement is clinched,” exclaimed his 
father, “and it will be the fault of you two young 
persons if we do not have a jolly reunion at 
Thanksgiving time. Good-by Ackerman! Good- 
by, Dick. Good luck to you! We are pinning our 
faith on you, remember. Don’t disappoint us.” 

“I’ll try not to,” the boy answered, as he stepped 
to the platform. 

“Dick is a fine, manly young chap,” observed 
Mr. Tolman, after the train was once more under 


ROMANCE OF THE CLIPPER SHIP 207 

way and he and Stephen were alone. “I have a 
feeling that he is going to make good, too. All he 
needed was a chance. He has splendid stuff in 
him. There isn’t a mean bone in his body.” 

Stephen moved uncomfortably in his chair and 
a guilty blush rose to his cheek but apparently his 
father did not notice it. 

“You liked Mr. Ackerman also, didn’t you, son? 
Indeed there is no need to ask for he is a genius 
with young people and no boy could help liking 
a man of his type. It is a pity he hasn’t a dozen 
children, or isn’t the leader of a boy’s school.” 

“He is corking at story-telling!” was Steve’s 
comment. 

“He certainly is. I caught some fragments of 
his Hudson River tale and did not wonder that it 
fascinated you. What a remarkable era that was!” 
he mused. 

“There were a lot of questions I wanted to ask 
him,” Stephen said. 

“Such as?” 

“Well, for one thing I was curious to know what 
happened after the steamers on the Hudson were 
proved a success.” 

“I can answer that question,” replied his father 
promptly. “After the river boats had demon- 
strated their practicability steamships were built 
for traffic along short distances of the coast. Owing 
to the War of 1812 and the danger to our shipping 
from the British, however, the launching of these 
new lines did not take place immediately; but in 


208 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

time the routes were established. The first of these 
was from New York to New Haven. You see, 
travel by steam power was still so much of a nov- 
elty that Norwich, first proposed as a destination, 
was felt to be too far away. It was like taking 
one’s life in one’s hands to venture such an im- 
mense distance from land on a steamboat.” 

Stephen smiled with amusement. 

“But gradually,” continued Mr. Tolman, “the 
public as well as the steamboat companies became 
more daring and a line from New York to Provi- 
dence, with Vanderbilt’s Lexington as one of the 
ships, was put into operation. Then in 1818 a line 
of steamers to sail the Great Lakes was built; and 
afterwards steamships to travel to points along the 
Maine coast. The problem of navigation on the 
rivers of the interior of the country followed and 
here a new conundrum in steamboat construction 
confronted the builders, for the channels of many 
of the streams were shallow and in consequence de- 
manded a type of boat very long and wide in pro- 
portion to its depth of hull. After such a variety 
of boat had been worked out and constructed, lines 
were established on several of the large rivers, and 
immediately the same old spirit of rivalry that per- 
vaded the Hudson years before cropped up in these 
other localities. Bitter competition, for example, 
raged between the boats that plied up and down 
the Mississippi; and in 1870 a very celebrated race 
took place between the Natchez and the Robert 
E. Lee. The distance to be covered was 1218 miles 


ROMANCE OF THE CLIPPER SHIP 209 

and the latter ship made it in three days, eighteen 
hours, and thirty minutes. The test, however, was 
not a totally fair one since the Natchez ran into a 
fog that held her up for six hours. But the event 
illustrates the keen interest with which men fol- 
lowed the progress of American shipping; and you 
can see how natural it was that after the river 
boats, lake steamers, coastwise vessels and tugs 
had had their day the next logical step (and very 
prodigious one) was the — ” 

“The ocean liner !” ejaculated Stephen. 

“Precisely! ” nodded his father. “Now there are 
two separate romances of our ocean-going ships. 
The first one is of the sailing vessels and is a 
chronicle of adventure and bravery as enthralling 
as any you could wish to read. I wish I had time 
to tell it to you in full and do it justice, but I fear 
I can only sketch in a few of the facts and leave 
you to read the rest by yourself some time. You 
probably know already that whalers went out from 
Gloucester, New Bedford, and various of our 
eastern ports and often were gone on two or three- 
year cruises; and when you recall that in those 
early days there not only was no wireless but not 
even the charts, lighthouses, and signals of a thor- 
oughly surveyed coast you will appreciate that set- 
ting forth on such a voyage for whale-oil (then 
used almost exclusively for lighting purposes) took 
courage. Of course the captains of the ships had 
compasses for the compass came into use just be- 
fore the beginning of the Fifteenth Century and 


210 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

was one of the things that stimulated the Portu- 
guese and Spaniards to start out on voyages of dis- 
covery. The Spaniards built ships that were then 
considered the largest and finest afloat, and prob- 
ably .Columbus caught the enthusiasm of the 
period and with the newly invented compass to 
guide him was stirred to brave the ocean and dis- 
cover other territory to add to the riches of the land 
he loved. It was a golden age of romance and 
adventure and the journeys of Columbus grew out 
of it quite naturally. But in America shipping had 
its foundation in no such picturesque beginning. 
The first vessel made in this country was con- 
structed as a mere matter of necessity, being built 
at the mouth of the Kennebec River to carry back 
to England a group of disheartened, homesick 
settlers.” 

He paused thoughtfully a moment. 

“Even the ships of later date had their birth in 
the same motive — that of necessity. The early 
colonists were forced to procure supplies from Eng- 
land and they had no choice but to build ships for 
that purpose. At first these sailing packets were 
very small, and as one thinks of them to-day it is 
to marvel that they ever made so many trips with- 
out foundering. As for our coastwise ships, up to 
1812 they were nothing more than schooner-rigged 
hulls.” 

“I wonder where the word schooner came from,” 
commented Steve. 

“The legend goes that the term scoon was a 


ROMANCE OF THE CLIPPER SHIP 211 

colloquialism used when skipping stones. When 
a pebble glanced along the top of the water it was 
said to scoony answered his father, with a smile. 
“ After the War of 1812 was over and our Ameri- 
can vessels were safe from possible attack, and 
after the country itself had recovered somewhat 
from the stress of this financial burden so that men 
had more money to invest in commerce, we began 
to branch out and build finer vessels; and when it 
came to rigging them there seemed to be no name 
to apply to the arrangement of the sails. The story 
goes that one day as one of these new ships sailed 
out of Gloucester harbor a fisherman watching her 
exclaimed with admiration, ‘See her scoon !* The 
phrase not only caught the public fancy but that 
of the shipbuilders as well, and the word schooner 
was quickly adopted.” 

“I never knew that before!” announced Steve, 
when the narrative was concluded. 

“Slowly the models of ships improved,” went 
on his father, without heeding the interruption. 
“Vessels became larger, faster, more graceful. 
Even the whalers and fishing smacks took on more 
delicate lines. Merchants from Salem, Gloucester, 
New Bedford invested their hard-earned savings 
in whalers and trading ships, and many of them 
made their fortunes by so doing. The sailing 
packets that went to Liverpool began to make ex- 
cellent time records. Although the English were 
now using steamers for trans-Atlantic travel they 
had not perfected them to a sufficient extent to 


212 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

make their trips faster than those of sailing 
ships.’ ’ 

“ About how long did it take them to cross?” in- 
quired Stephen. 

“The average time to Liverpool was from nine- 
teen to twenty-one days,” was the answer. “And 
for the return voyage from thirty to thirty-five.” 

“Whew, Dad! Why, one could walk it in that 
time!” exclaimed the lad. 

“It was a long time,” his father agreed. “But 
it is not fair to measure it by present-day stand- 
ards. Think how novel a thing it was to cross the 
ocean at all!” 

“I suppose so,” came reflectively from Stephen. 

“It was not long,” continued his father, “before 
the English improved their engines so that their 
steamers made better time, and then our American 
sailing packets were left far behind. This, as you 
can imagine, did not please our proud and ambi- 
tious colonists who were anxious to increase their 
commerce and build up their young and growing 
country. Something must be done! As yet they 
had not mastered the enigma of steam but they 
could make their sailing ships swifter and finer and 
this they set to work to do. Out of this impetus 
for prosperity came the remarkable clipper-ship 
era. 

“We shall probably never see such beautiful 
ships again,” continued Mr. Tolman, a trifle sadly. 
“Youth and romance go hand in hand, and our 
country was very young, and proud and eager in 


ROMANCE OF THE CLIPPER SHIP 213 

those days. Our commerce was only beginning 
and the far corners of the world were strange, un- 
explored and alluring. It is like an Arabian Night’s 
Tale to read of those wonderful ships built to carry 
merchandise to China, India and other foreign 
ports. Speed was their aim — speed, speed, speed! 
They must hold their own against the English 
steamers if they would keep their place on the seas. 
For in those days the methods of packing produce 
were very primitive, and it was imperative that 
such perishable things as tea, dried fruits, spices 
and coffee should be rushed to the markets before 
the dampness spoiled them. If they mildewed 
they would be a dead loss to the merchants hand- 
ling them. Moreover as cable and telegraph were 
unknown there was no way to keep in touch with 
the demands of the public, or be sure of prices. 
Therefore every merchant hurried his goods home 
in the hope of being the first in the field and reap- 
ing the largest profits.” 

“More racing!” exclaimed Stephen. 

“It was racing, indeed!” returned his father. 
“Ships raced one another back from China, each 
trying desperately to discharge her cargo before 
her rival did. Like great sea-birds these beautiful 
boats skimmed the waves, stretching every inch 
of canvas to be the winner at the goal. As a result 
the slow merchant packets with their stale car- 
goes could find no patrons, the clippers command- 
ing not only all the trade but the highest prices for 
produce as well. Silks, chinaware, ivory, bamboo 


214 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

— all the wealth of the Orient began to arrive in 
America where it was hungrily bought up, many 
a man making his fortune in the East India trade. 
Of this fascinating epoch Hawthorne gives us a 
vivid picture.” 

“It must have been great to travel on one of 
those ships!” said Stephen. 

“It was not all pleasure, by any means, son,” 
Mr. Tolman replied. “Often the vessels encoun- 
tered hurricanes and typhoons in the treacherous 
Eastern waters. Sometimes ships were blown out 
of their course and wrecked, or cast ashore on 
islands where their crews became the prey of can- 
nibals.” 

“Jove!” 

“It had its outs — this cruising to distant ports,” 
announced his father. “Moreover, the charts in 
use were still imperfect and lighthouse protection 
was either very scanty or was lacking entirely.” 

“What became of the clipper ships?” 

“Well, we Americans never do anything by 
halves, you know. When we go in we go in all 
over,” laughed his father. “That is what we did 
with our clipper ships. We were so pleased with 
them that we built more and more, sending them 
everywhere we could think of. Many went around 
to California to carry merchandise to the gold 
searchers. At last there were so many of these 
swift vessels that they cut into one another and 
freight rates dropped. Besides, steamboats were 
coming into general use and were now ru nnin g on 


ROMANCE OF THE CLIPPER SHIP 215 

all the more important ocean routes. The day of 
the sailing ship was over and the marvelous vessels 
were compelled to yield their place to the heralds 
of progress and become things of the past. Never- 
theless, their part in our American commerce will 
never be forgotten and we have them to thank not 
only for the fame they brought our country but 
also for much of its wealth.” 

With a quick gesture of surprise he rose 
hurriedly. 

“See!” he exclaimed. “We are almost home. 
We have talked ‘ships and sealing-wax’ for hours.” 

“It hasn’t seemed for hours,” retorted Stephen, 
springing to collect his luggage. 

“Nor to me, either.” 

“Some time I’d like to hear about the ocean 
liners,” ventured the boy. 

“You must get Mr. Ackerman to tell you that 
story when he comes to visit us Thanksgiving,” 
was the reply, “if he does come. That part of it 
seems to be up to you and Dick.” 

“I mean to do my part to get him here,” Steve 
announced. “I hope Dick will plug, too.” 

“I rather think you can trust him for that,” was 
the quiet answer. 


CHAPTER XVI 

AGAIN THE MAGIC DOOR OPENS 

A change of trains and a brief hour’s journey 
brought the travelers safely to Coventry where 
Havens met them with the automobile. 

“This will be our last ride this fall,” observed 
Mr. Tolman, as he loitered on the platform while 
the luggage was being lifted into the car. “We 
shall have to put the motor up in a day or two. It 
will not need much of an overhauling in the way 
of repairs this season, I guess, for it is compara- 
tively new and should be in pretty good condition. 
There may be a few slight things necessary but 
nothing much. Isn’t that so, Havens?” 

“It is badly scratched, sir.” 

“Scratched!” 

“Yes, sir — both inside and out. I wonder you 
haven’t noticed it. Still you wouldn’t unless you 
got it in just the right light. I did not myself at 
first. There are terrible scratches everywhere. 
You would think ten men had climbed all over it. 
Look!” 

“Oh, it can’t be so bad as all that,” laughed Mr. 
Tolman good-humoredly, evidently not taking the 
chauffeur’s comment seriously. “The car was new 


AGAIN THE MAGIC DOOR OPENS 217 

in the spring and we have not given it very hard 
wear. What little luggage we have carried has 
been carefully put in; I have seen to that myself. 
Only a short time ago I thought how splendidly 
fresh the varnish looked. In fact, I examined it 
just before you were ill. It can’t have become 
very much defaced since then for we have not had 
the car out of the garage except for one short 
excursion. 

Havens’ brow darkened into a puzzled frown. 

“I don’t understand it at all, sir,” he replied. 
“I could swear the scratches were not there when 
I went away. If you didn’t tell me yourself the 
car hadn’t been used much I’d stake my oath it 
had had a great deal of knocking about while I 
was gone. Look here, Mr. Tolman! Look at that, 
and that, and that — great digs in the paint as if 
people with boots on had climbed over the sides.” 

Mr. Tolman looked and so, with a sinking heart, 
did Stephen. 

“Mercy on us! I never noticed all this before! ” 
cried Mr. Tolman, in consternation. “What in the 
world — ” he stopped as if he could find no words 
to voice his amazement. “Look at this f” He 
placed a finger on a broad, clearly defined line that 
extended from the top of the tonneau to the 
bottom. “You would think somebody had dug 
his heels in here and then slid down until he 
reached the ground! And this! What on earth 
has happened to the thing, Havens? It looks as 
if it had been used for a gymnasium,” 


2 18 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Hot and cold by turns, Steve listened. The 
marks to which his father pointed told a truthful 
story. Somebody had braced his heels against the 
side and then slid to the ground; it was Bud Tay- 
lor. And that other jagged line indicated where 
Tim Barclay had scrambled over the edge and 
made his hurried exit. The history of the whole 
miserable adventure was etched in the varnish as 
vividly as if it had been traced there in words. 
Stephen gasped with horror when he saw how 
plainly the entire story stood out in the sunlight of 
the November day. Why, the most stupid person 
alive could read it! Every moment he expected 
that his father or Havens would wheel on him and 
ask accusingly: 

“When was it you carried all those boys to Tor- 
rington?” 

He could hear his heart thumping inside him and 
feel the beat of the blood that scorched his cheek. 
He had not pictured a dilemma like this. The 
affair had gone off so smoothly that he had flat- 
tered himself every possibility of discovery was 
past, and in this comforting knowledge he had 
basked with serenity. And now, behold, here he 
was at the brink of peril, and just when he had had 
such a glorious holiday, too ! 

“How do you solve the riddle, Havens?” he 
heard his father asking. 

“I ain’t solvin’ it, sir,” was the drawling answer. 
“Maybe Steve could give you a hint, though,” he 
added slyly. 


AGAIN THE MAGIC DOOR OPENS 219 

The lad stiffened. He and Havens had never 
been friends. They had been through too many 
battles for that. The chauffeur did not like boys 
and took no trouble to conceal the fact, and as a 
result he had been the prey of many a mischievous 
prank. It was through his vigilance that Stephen 
had more than once been brought to justice and 
in the punishment that followed Havens had ex- 
ulted without restraint. As a retaliation the boy 
tormented him whenever opportunity presented, 
the two carrying on a half -bitter, half -humorous 
feud which was a source of mutual gratification. 

Had not this been the case the confession that 
trembled on Stephen’s tongue would doubtless 
have been uttered then and there. But to speak 
before Havens and afford him the chance to crow 
and rejoice, — that was not to be thought of. 
Therefore, drawing in his chin and holding his 
head a trifle higher than was his wont, he replied 
with hauteur: 

“I’ve no solution at all to offer. How could I 
have?” 

For the fraction of a second Mr. Tolman looked 
sharply at his son as if some new thought had sud- 
denly struck him; then the piercing scrutiny faded 
from his eyes and he turned away. 

“Well, I guess we shall have to drop the matter 
for the present, anyway, and be getting home,” 
said he. “It will do no good for us to stand here 
in the cold and argue. We shall be no nearer an 
answer. Come, jump in, Steve! ” 


220 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

With a strange sense of reluctance the boy 
obeyed. He felt the door to confession closing with 
finality behind him ; and now that he saw all chance 
for dallying on its threshold cut off, he began to 
regret that it should so completely close. Once 
again the opportunity to clear his conscience had 
come about in an easy, natural manner; confession 
had been gently and tactfully invited and he had 
turned his back. Never again, probably, would he 
have such a chance as this. Without any igno- 
minious preamble he could have spoken the few 
words necessary and been a free man! But alas, 
he had hesitated too long. His father followed 
him into the car, banged the door, and they shot 
homeward. 

Perhaps, temporized the lad as they rode along, 
he would say something when they reached the 
house. Why wasn’t it better anyway to wait until 
he and his father were quiet and alone? Who 
could blame him for not wanting to confess his 
misdemeanors before an audience? His father 
would understand and forgive his reticence, he was 
sure. Having lulled his conscience to rest with the 
assurance of this future reparation he sank back 
against the cushions and drew the robe closer about 
him. There was no use in letting the ride be 
spoiled by worry. He did not need to speak until 
he got back, and he needn’t speak at all if he did 
not wish to. If no favorable opening occurred, 
why, he could still remain silent and wait a better 
chance. He had taken no vow, made no promise; 


AGAIN THE MAGIC DOOR OPENS 221 
nothing actually bound him to act unless he 
chose. 

It was surprising how his spirits rose with this 
realization. He even ventured to talk a little and 
make a joke or two. These overtures received only 
scant response from his father, however, for Mr. 
Tolman’s brow had settled into a frown and it 
needed no second glance to assure Stephen that the 
happenings of the past half-hour had put the elder 
man very much out of humor. How unfortunate, 
mused the boy, that this mood should have come 
upon his father. It would take more than an or- 
dinary measure of courage to approach him now. 
Why, it would be braving the lions, actually tempt- 
ing fate to go to him with a confession when he 
looked like this. Would it not be much wiser to 
wait? 

With a sharp swerve they turned in at the gate 
and rolled up the long driveway; then the front 
door burst open and from it issued not only Mrs. 
Tolman and Doris but with them the girl with the 
wonderful hair, Jane Harden, whom he had seen 
at Northampton. A hubbub of greeting ensued and 
in the interchange of gay conversation all thought 
of confession was swept from Stephen’s mind. 

Nor in the days that followed, with their round 
of skating, hockey, snow-shoeing, and holiday fes- 
tivities, did the inclination to revert to the follies 
of the past arise. The big red touring-car was 
sent away without further allusion to its battered 
condition and with its departure the last link with 


222 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

the misfortunes that tormented him seemed de- 
stroyed. Once, it is true, when he overheard his 
father telling his mother that the bill for repaint- 
ing and varnishing the car was going to be very 
large, his conscience smote him. But what, he 
argued, could he do? Even were he to come for- 
ward now and shoulder the blame it would not re- 
duce the expense of which his father complained. 
He had no money. Therefore he decided it was 
better to close his ears and try and forget the en- 
tire affair. His father had evidently accepted the 
calamity with resignation and made up his mind 
to bear the consequences without further demur. 
Why not let the matter rest there? At this late 
date it would be absurd to speak, especially when 
it could not alter the situation. 

In the meantime letters came from Mr. Acker- 
man and from Dick. The latter was very happy 
at the New Haven school and was making quite a 
record for himself, and it was easy to detect be- 
tween the lines of the steamboat magnate’s epistle 
that he was much gratified by the progress of his 
protege. Thanksgiving would soon be here and if 
the Tolmans still extended their invitation for the 
holidays the two New Yorkers would be glad to 
accept it. 

“I’ll write Ackerman to-day,” announced Mr. 
Tolman at breakfast. “The invitation has hung 
on Stephen and Dick, and I am glad to say they 
each have made good. How fine that that little 
East Side chap should have turned out so well! 


AGAIN THE MAGIC DOOR OPENS 223 

I don’t wonder Ackerman is pleased. Everybody 
does not get appreciation in return for kindness. 
I know many a parent whose children repay what 
is done for them only with sneaking, unworthy 
conduct and utter ingratitude. Dick may not have 
been born into prosperity but he is a thoroughbred 
at heart and it shows in his actions. He is every 
inch a gentleman.” 

At the words Stephen’s blood tingled. 

What would his father think of him if he knew 
what a mean-spirited coward he was? Well, it was 
impossible to tell him now. It would upset the 
whole Thanksgiving party. 


CHAPTER XVII 

MORE STEAMBOATING 

The night before Thanksgiving Mr. Ackerman 
and Dick arrived at Coventry and it was difficult 
to believe the change wrought in the New York 
boy. Not only was his face round, rosy and radi- 
ant with happiness but along with a new manli- 
ness had stolen a gentler bearing and a courtesy 
that had not been there when he had set forth to 
school. 

“Why, you must have put on ten pounds, Dick! ” 
cried Mr. Tolman, shaking hands with his young 
guest after greeting the steamboat magnate. 

“It is eleven pounds, sir,” laughed Dick. “We 
have bully eats at school and all you want of them.” 

The final phrase had a reminiscent ring as if it 
harked back to a time when three ample meals were 
a mirage of the imagination. 

“Well, I am glad to hear you have done justice 
to them and encouraged the cook,” was Mr. Tol- 
man J s jocular reply. “Now while you stay here 
you must cheer on our cook in the same fashion. 
If you don’t we shall think you like New Haven 
better.” 

“I guess there is no danger of that,” put in Mr. 


MORE STEAMBOATING 225 

Ackerman. “Dick seems hollow down to his 
ankles. There is no filling him up; is there, boy?” 

“I couldn’t eat that third ice-cream you offered 
me yesterday,” was the humorous retort. 

“I hope you’ve saved some room for to-morrow’s 
dinner,” Mrs. Tolman interrupted, “for there will 
be mince pie and plum pudding and I don’t know 
what not. And then there is the turkey — we or- 
dered an extra large one on purpose.” 

Dick and Steve exchanged a sheepish grin. 

“Well, it is jolly to see you good people,” Mr. 
Tolman declared, as he ushered the visitors into 
the living room, where a bright fire burned on the 
hearth. “Our boys have done well, haven’t they, 
Ackerman? I don’t know which is to win the schol- 
arship race — the steamboats or the railroads.” 

“We could compare marks,” Stephen suggested. 

“That would hardly be fair,” Mr. Ackerman ob- 
jected quickly, “for the steamboats did not start 
even with the railroads in this contest. Dick has 
had to put in a lot of hours with a tutor to make 
up for the work he missed at the beginning of the 
year. He has been compelled to bone down like 
a beaver to go ahead with his class; but he has 
succeeded, haven’t you, sonny?” 

“I hope I have,” was the modest retort. 

“Furthermore,” went on Mr. Ackerman, “there 
are other things beside scholarship to be consid- 
ered in this bargain. We want fine, manly boys as 
well as wise ones. Conduct counts for a great deal, 
you know.” 


226 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Stephen felt himself coloring. 

“There have been no black marks on Dick’s 
record thus far. How about yours, Steve?” asked 
the New York man. 

“I — er — no. I haven’t had any black marks, 
either,” responded Stephen, with a gulp of shame. 

“That is splendid, isn’t it!” commented Mr. 
Ackerman. “I wasn’t looking for them. You have 
too fine a father to be anything but a square boy.” 

Once more Stephen knew himself to be blushing. 
If they would only talk about something else! 

“Are you going to finish your steamboat story 
for us while you are here?” inquired he with sudden 
inspiration. 

“Why, I had not thought of doing any steam- 
boating down here,” laughed the capitalist. 
“Rather I came to help the Pilgrims celebrate their 
first harvest.” 

“But even they had to come to America by 
boat,” suggested Doris mischievously. 

“I admit that,” owned the New Yorker. “And 
what is more, they probably would have come in 
a steamboat if one had been running at the time.” 

“What was the first American steamship to cross 
the Atlantic, Ackerman?” questioned Mr. Tolman 
when they were all seated before the library fire. 

“I suppose the Savannah had that distinction,” 
was the reply. “She was built in New York in 
1818 to be used as a sailing packet; but she had 
side wheels and an auxiliary engine, and although 
she did not make the entire trans-Atlantic distance 


MORE STEAMBOATING 227 

by steam she did cover a part of it under steam 
power. Her paddle wheels, it is interesting to note, 
were so constructed that they could be unshipped 
and taken aboard when they were not in use, or 
when the weather was rough. I believe it took her 
twenty-seven days to make the trip from Savannah 
to Liverpool and eighty hours of that time she was 
using her engine. Although she made several trips 
in safety it was quite a while before the American 
public was sufficiently convinced of the value of 
steam to build other steamships. A few small ones 
appeared in our harbors, it is true, but they came 
from Norway or England; they made much better 
records, too, than anything previously known, the 
Sirius crossing in 1838 in nineteen days, and the 
Great Western in fifteen. In the meantime ship- 
builders on both sides of the Atlantic were studying 
the steamboat problem and busy brains in Nova 
Scotia and on the Clyde were working out an an- 
swer to the puzzle. One of the most alert of these 
brains belonged to Samuel Cunard, the founder of 
the steamship line that has since become world 
famous. In May, 1840, through his instrumen- 
tality, the Unicorn set out from England for Bos- 
ton arriving in the harbor June third after a voyage 
of sixteen days. When we reflect that she was 
a wooden side-wheeler, not much larger than one 
of our tugboats, we marvel that she ever put in her 
appearance. Tidings of her proposed trip had ah 
ready preceded her, and when after much anxious 
watching she was sighted there was the greatest 


228 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

enthusiasm along the water front, the over-zealous 
populace who wished to give her a royal welcome 
setting off a six-pounder in her honor that shat- 
tered to atoms most of her stained glass as she 
tied up at the dock/’ 

His audience laughed. 

“You see,” continued the capitalist, “the ship 
came in answer to a circular sent out by our gov- 
ernment to various shipbuilders asking bids from 
swift and reliable boats to carry our mails to Eng- 
land. Cunard immediately saw the commercial 
advantages of such an opportunity, and not having 
money enough to back the venture himself the 
Halifax man went to Scotland where he met Robert 
Napier, a person who like himself had had wide 
experience in shipping affairs. Both men were en- 
thusiastic over the project; before long the money 
necessary for the undertaking was raised, and the 
British and North American Royal Mail Steam 
Packet Company, with a line of four ships, was 
awarded the United States Government contract. 
These ships were very significantly named: the 
Britannia in honor of England, the Arcadia as a 
compliment to Mr. Cunard’s Nova Scotia home, 
the Caledonia in memory of Napier’s Scotch an- 
cestry, and the Columbia out of regard to America. 
And in passing it is rather interesting to recall that 
in homage to these pioneer ships it has become a 
tradition of the Cunard Line to use names that 
terminate in the letter a for all the ships that have 
followed them. For, you must remember, it was 


MORE STEAMBOATING 229 

this modest group of steam packets that were the 
ancestors of such magnificent boats as the Maure- 
tania and Lusitania ” 

“There was some difference!” interrupted 
Stephen. 

“Well, rather! Had you, however, told Samuel 
Cunard then that such mammoth floating hotels 
were possible he would probably not have believed 
you. He had task enough on his hands to carry 
the mails; transport the few venturesome souls 
that dared to cross the sea; and compete with the 
many rival steamship lines that sprang up on both 
sides of the ocean as soon as some one had demon- 
strated that trans-Atlantic travel was practical. 
For after Cunard had blazed the path there were 
plenty of less daring persons ready to steal from 
him the fruits of his vision and courage. From 
1847 to 1857 the Ocean Steamship Company 
carried mails between New York and Bremen, and 
there was a very popular line that ran from New 
York to Havre, up to the period of the Civil War. 
Among the individual ships none, perhaps, was 
more celebrated than the Great Eastern, a vessel 
of tremendous length, and one that more nearly 
approached our present-day liners as to size. Then 
there was the Collins Line that openly competed 
with the Cunard Line; and to further increase 
trans-Atlantic travel, in 1855 Cornelius Vanderbilt, 
ever at the fore in novel projects, began operating 
lines of steamships not only to England and France 
but to Bremen.” 


230 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

Mr. Ackerman paused a moment. 

“By 1871 there was an American line between 
Philadelphia and Liverpool. In the meantime, 
ever since 1861, there had been a slow but steady 
advance in ocean shipbuilding. Although iron 
ships had gradually replaced wooden ones the side- 
wheeler was still in vogue, no better method of lo- 
comotion having been discovered. When the 
change from this primitive device to the screw pro- 
peller came it was a veritable leap in naval archi- 
tecture. Now revolutions in any direction seldom 
receive a welcome and just as the conservatives 
had at first hooted down the idea of iron ships, 
asserting they would never float, so they now de- 
cried the use of the screw propeller. Indeed there 
was no denying that this innovation presented to 
shipbuilders a multitude of new and balking prob- 
lems. While the clipper ships had greatly improved 
the designs of vessels the stern was still their 
weakest point and now, in addition to this already 
existing difficulty, came the new conundrums pre- 
sented by the pitch, or full turn of the thread, in 
the screw propeller; also the churning of the 
current produced by the rapidly whirling wheel, 
which was found to retard the speed of the ship 
very materially. Valiantly engineers wrestled with 
one after another of these enigmas until they con- 
quered them and put shipbuilding on the upward 
path where it has been ever since. In time steel 
ships replaced the cruder vessels of iron; finer 
types of engines were worked out; the wireless and 


MORE STEAMBOATING 231 

the many electrical devices which herald approach- 
ing foes and announce the presence of icebergs 
have been invented; until now the ocean liner is 
practically safe from all perils except fogs, ice- 
bergs and submarines.” 

He stopped a moment with eyes fixed on the 
glowing logs that crackled on the hearth. 

“Meanwhile,” he went on, “comfort aboard ship 
has progressed to luxury. Better systems of ven- 
tilation, more roomy sleeping quarters, more win- 
dows and improved lighting facilities have been 
installed. The general arrangement of the ship 
has also been vastly improved since the days when 
the high bulwark and long deckhouse were in use. 
Now iron railings allow the sea to wash back and 
forth in time of storm, and in consequence there 
is less danger of vessels being swamped by the 
waves. Then there are watertight doors and bulk- 
heads, double bottoms to the hulls, and along with 
these more practical advances have come others of 
a more healthful and artistic trend. The furniture 
is better; the decoration of the cabins and saloons 
prettier and more harmonious ; there has been more 
hygienic sanitation. When the Oceanic of the 
White Star Line was built in 1870 she had a second 
deck, and this novel feature was adopted broad- 
cast and eventually ushered in the many-deck 
liners now in use. The Servia, built in 1881, was 
the first steel ship and the advantage of its greater 
elasticity was instantly seen. Builders were wise 
enough to grasp the fact that with the increasing 


232 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

length of vessels steel ships would be able to stand 
a greater strain. Little by little the gain went on 
in every direction. Nevertheless, in spite of the 
intelligence of the shipbuilders, it was long before 
trans-Atlantic navigators had the courage to trust 
themselves entirely to their engines and discard 
masts; although they shifted to steel ones instead 
of those of iron or wood, they still persisted in 
carrying them.” 

He smiled as he spoke. 

“When the twin-screw propeller made its ap- 
pearance it brought with it greater speed and there 
was a revival of the old racing spirit. Between the 
various shipping lines of all nations the contest for 
size and swiftness has raged ever since. Before 
the Great War, Germany had a very extensive col- 
lection of large and rapid liners, many of them 
built on the Clyde, that fought to surpass the 
Cunard ships. The White Star Line also took a 
hand in the game and built others. In the contest, 
alas, America has been far behind until gradually 
she has let other countries slip in and usurp the 
major proportion of ocean commerce. It is a piti- 
ful thing that we should not have applied our skill 
and wealth of material to building fine American 
steamship lines of our own instead of letting so 
many of our tourists turn their patronage to ships 
of foreign nations. Perhaps if the public were not 
so eager for novelty, and so constantly in search 
for the newest, the largest and the fastest boats, 
we should be content to make our crossings in the 


MORE STEAMBOATING 233 

older and less gaudy ships, which after all are quite 
as seaworthy. But we Americans must always 
have the superlative, and therefore many a steamer 
has had to be scrapped simply because it had no 
palm gardens, no swimming pools, no shore lux- 
uries. We have not, however, wholly neglected 
naval construction for we have many fine steam- 
ships, a praiseworthy lot of battleships and cruisers 
and some very fine submarines. I hope and believe 
that the time will come when our merchant marine 
will once again stand at the front as it did in the 
days of the clipper ships. Our commerce reaches 
out to every corner of the earth and why should 
we rely on other countries to transport our goods ?” 

“I suppose there are no pirates now, are there, 
Mr. Ackerman?” asked Dick, raising his eyes ex- 
pectantly to the capitalist’s face. 

“I am afraid there are very few, Dick boy,” re- 
turned the elder man kindly. “I suppose that is 
somewhat of a disappointment to you. You would 
have preferred to sail the seas in the days when 
every small liner carried her guns as a defence 
against raiders and was often forced to use them, 
too. But when international law began to regu- 
late traffic on the high seas and the ocean thorough- 
fare ceased to be such a deserted one pirates went 
out of fashion, and every nation was granted equal 
rights to sail the seas unmolested. It was because 
this freedom was menaced by German submarines 
in the late war and our privilege to travel by water 
threatened that our nation refused to tolerate such 


234 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

conditions. A code of humane laws that had been 
established for the universal good was being 
broken and we could not permit it. For you must 
remember that now there are almost as many laws 
on the ocean as on the land. There are rules for 
all kinds of vessels, of which there are a far greater 
variety than perhaps you realize. Not only have 
we steamships, cruisers, and battleships but we 
have schooners, barques, brigs, tugboats, dredgers, 
oil-tankers, turret ships for freight, cargo boats, 
steam tramps, coalers, produce ships, ice-breakers, 
train ferries, steam trawlers, fire boats, river boats, 
harbor excursion boats, coasters, whalebacks, 
steam yachts, launches and lake steamers. Each 
of these is carefully classified and has its particular 
traffic rules, and in addition to these is obliged to 
obey certain other general marine laws to which 
all of them are subject, in order that travel by 
water may be made safe.” 

“Don’t all ships have to be inspected, too?” 
asked Stephen. 

“Yes; and not only are they inspected but to 
protect the lives of their passengers and crew, as 
well as preserve their cargo, they must adhere to 
specified conditions. The number of passengers 
and crew is regulated by law, as is the amount of 
the cargo. Ocean liners, for example, must have 
aboard a certain number of lifeboats, rafts, belts, 
life preservers, fire extinguishers, lines of hose; 
and the size of all these is carefully designated. 
There must be frequent drills in manning the 


MORE STEAMBOATING 235 

boats; the fire hose must be tested to see that it 
works and is in proper condition; and in thick 
weather the foghorns must be sounded at regular 
intervals. There is no such thing now as going to 
sea in haphazard fashion and trusting to luck. 
Everything that can be done for the safety of those 
who travel the ocean must be done.” 

He paused a moment, then added: 

“And in the meanwhile, that every protection 
possible shall be offered to ships, we have been as 
busy on the land as on the water and have estab- 
lished a code of laws to govern our coasts, harbors 
and rivers. Government surveys have charted the 
shores of all countries so that now there are com- 
plete maps that give not only the coast line but 
also the outlying islands, rocks and shoals that 
might be a menace to ships. It is no longer pos- 
sible for a State bordering on the sea to put up a 
low building at the water’s edge and set a few 
candles in the windows as was done back in the 
year eighteen hundred.” 

Both the boys laughed. 

“We can laugh now,” assented Mr. Ackerman 
with a smile, “but in those days I fancy it was no 
laughing matter. Even with all our up-to-date de- 
vices there are wrecks; and think of the ships that 
must have gone down before charts were available, 
lighthouses and bell buoys in vogue, wireless sig- 
nals invented and the coast patrol in operation. 
I shudder to picture it. Sailing the seas was a 
perilous undertaking then, I assure you. Even the 


236 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

first devices for safety were primitive. The Ar- 
gand lamp of 1812 was not at all powerful and the 
lenses used were far from perfect. Foghorns were 
operated by hand or by horse power and were not 
strong enough to be heard at any great distance. 
Bell buoys were unknown although there were such 
things as bell-boats which were anchored in dan- 
gerous spots and rung by the wash of the waves. 
There were lightships, too, but more often than 
not their feeble light was obscured or unnoticed 
and they were run down by the ships they sought 
to protect. Altogether there was room for im- 
provement at every point and slowly but surely it 
came. After the Daboll trumpet, whistle and siren 
had been tried finer horns operated by steam or 
power engines supplanted them until now all along 
our coasts and inland streams signals of specified 
strength have been installed, a commission deciding 
just what size signals shall be used and where they 
shall be placed. There are lighthouses of pre- 
scribed candle power; automatic flashlights and 
whistling buoys; coastguard stations with carefully 
drilled crews; all regulated by law and matters of 
compulsion. If men and ships are lost now it is 
because it is beyond human power to help it.” 

“There are facts about the water that are im- 
possible to modify,” interrupted Mr. Tolman, “and 
I suppose we shall never be able wholly to elimi- 
nate the dangers growing out of them. There are 
for example silence zones where, because of the 
nature of air currents or atmospheric conditions, 


MORE STEAMBOATING 237 

no sounds can be heard. Often a foghorn compara- 
tively near at hand will belch forth its warning and 
its voice be swallowed up in this strange stillness. 
Many a calamity has occurred that could only be 
accounted for in this way. Man is ingenious, it 
is true, but he is not omniscient and in the face of 
some of the caprices of nature he is powerless.” 

Mr. Ackerman rose and stood with his back 
to the fire. 

“And now,” went on Mr. Tolman, addressing 
Stephen and Dick, “I should say you two had had 
quite a lecture on steamboating and should move 
that you both go to bed.” 

Quickly Mr. Ackerman interrupted him. 

“I should amend the motion by suggesting that 
we all go to bed,” laughed he. “I am quite as tired 
as the boys are.” 

The amendment was passed, the motion carried, 
and soon the entire Tolman family was wrapped 
in sleep. 


CHAPTER XVIII 

A THANKSGIVING TRAGEDY 

Perhaps had Stephen known what was in store 
for him on the morrow he might not have slept so 
soundly. As it was, he and Dick had to be called 
three times before they opened their eyes on the 
Thanksgiving sunshine. A heavy frost had fallen 
during the night, touching the trees with splendor 
and transforming the brown earth to a jewelled 
sweep of gems that flashed like brilliants in the 
golden light. The boys scrambled into their clothes 
and, ruddy from a cold shower, descended to the 
dining room where amid the fragrance of steaming 
coffee the family were just sitting down to break- 
fast. 

“Well, what is up for to-day, boys?” inquired 
Mrs. Tolman, after the more formal greetings were 
over. “What are you planning to do with Dick, 
Stephen?” 

“We’re going skating over to the Hollow if the 
ice is any good,” was the prompt response. “It 
was fine yesterday and unless somebody has 
smashed it all up it ought to be good to-day.” 

“That plan sounds rather nice, doesn’t it, Jane?” 
Doris suggested to her roommate. “Why don’t we 
go, too?” 


A THANKSGIVING TRAGEDY 239 

“I’d like nothing better,” was the answer. 

“The youngsters have sketched a very alluring 
program,” Mr. Ackerman said. “If I had any 
skates I should be tempted to join them. I have 
not been on the ice in years but in my day I used 
to be quite a hockey player.” 

“Oh, do come, Mr. Ackerman!” cried Steve 
eagerly. “If you used to skate it will all come 
back to you. It is like swimming, you know; once 
you have learned you never forget how.” 

“But I’ve nothing to skate with,” laughed the 
New Yorker. 

“Oh, we can fix you up with skates all right, if 
you really want to go,” Mr. Tolman said. “I have 
a couple of pairs and am sure you could manage 
to use one of them.” 

“So you are a skater, are you, Tolman?” the 
capitalist observed, with surprise. 

“Oh, I am nothing great,” Mr. Tolman pro- 
tested, “but I have always enjoyed sports and 
muddled along at them. Coventry is quite a dis- 
tance from Broadway, you see, and therefore we 
must get our recreation in other ways.” 

“It is a darn sight better than anything New 
York has to offer,” commented the other man 
soberly. “Good wholesome out-of-door exercise is 
not to be mentioned in the same breath with a hot 
theater where a picture show is a makeshift for 
something better. Give me fresh air and exercise 
every time!” 

“Well, since that is the way you feel about it 


2 4 o STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

we can comply with your request,” Mr. Tolman 
rejoined, with a smile. “If you do not mind hob- 
bling back to New York lame as a cart-horse you 
can certainly have your wish, for we have the ice, 
the skates, plenty of coats and sweaters — every- 
thing necessary. Suppose we all start for the Hol- 
low at ten o’clock. It is a mile walk but as we are 
having a late dinner we shall still have a long morn- 
ing.” 

“That will suit me all right,” returned Mr. Ac- 
kerman. 

“By the way, Henry,” interrupted Mrs. Tolman, 
addressing her husband, “Havens is waiting to see 
you. He has some message for you.” 

“Where is he?” 

“In the hall.” 

“Ask Mary to tell him to go into my den. I’ll 
be there in a minute.” 

What a merry party it was that chatted and 
laughed there in the warmth of the sunny dining 
room! For the time being the elders dropped their 
cares and became as young in spirit as the boys 
and girls. Jokes, stories and good-humored banter 
passed back and forth until with one accord every- 
body rose from the table and sauntered into the 
library where a great blaze of logs glowed and 
crackled. 

“If you will excuse me I will see what Havens 
wants,” remarked Mr. Tolman, as he lighted his 
cigar. “Probably the garage people have un- 
earthed some more repairs that must be made on 


A THANKSGIVING TRAGEDY 241 

that car. They seem to have a faculty for that 
sort of thing. Every day they discover something 
new the matter with it. I shall have a nice little 
bill by the time they finish.” 

Shrugging his shoulders, he passed into the hall. 
It was more than half an hour before he returned 
and when he did a close observer would have no- 
ticed that his face had lost its brightness and that 
the gaiety with which he took up the conversation 
with his guests was forced and unnatural. How- 
ever, he tried resolutely to banish his irritation, 
whatever its cause. He went up to the attic with 
Mr. Ackerman, where the two searched out skates, 
woolen gloves and sweaters; he jested with Doris 
and Jane Harden; he challenged Dick to a race 
across the frozen ground. But beneath his light- 
ness lingered a grave depression which betokened 
to those who knew him best that something was 
wrong. Yet he was evidently determined the cloud 
should not obtrude itself and spoil the happiness 
of the day. Probably some business annoyance 
that could not be remedied had arisen ; or possibly 
Havens had given notice. Such contingencies were 
of course to be deplored but as they could not be 
helped, why let them ruin the entire holiday? 

Therefore nobody heeded Mr. Tolman’s mood 
which was so well controlled that his guests were 
unconscious of it, and the group of skaters swung 
along over the frosty fields with undiminished mer- 
riment. The Hollow for which they were bound 
lay in a deserted stone quarry where a little arm 


242 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

of the river had penetrated the barrier of rocks and, 
gradually flooding the place, made at one end a 
deep pool; from this point the water spread itself 
over the meadows in a large, shallow pond. Had 
the spot been nearer the town it would doubtless 
have been overrun with skaters ; but as it was iso- 
lated, and there was a larger lake near the center 
of the village, few persons took the trouble to seek 
out this remote stretch of ice. 

This morning it lay desolate like a gleaming 
mirror, not a human being marring its solitude. 

“We shall have the place all to ourselves!” ex- 
claimed Mr. Ackerman. “There will be no spec-, 
tators to watch me renew my youth, thank 
goodness!” 

Quickly the skates were strapped on and the 
young people shot out into the sunshine and began 
to circle about. More cautiously Mr. Tolman and 
his guest followed. 

“I wouldn’t go into the quarry,” shouted Mr. 
Tolman, “for I doubt if it has been cold enough 
yet to freeze the ice very solidly there. There are 
liable to be air holes where the river makes in.” 

“Oh, we fellows have skated in the quarry 
millions of times, Dad,” Stephen protested. “It 
is perfectly safe.” 

“There is no way of telling whether it is or not,” 
was the response, “so suppose for to-day we keep 
away from it.” 

“But — ” 

“Oh, don’t argue, Stevie,” called Doris. “If 


A THANKSGIVING TRAGEDY 243 

Dad doesn’t want us to go there that’s enough, 
isn’t it?” 

“But half the fun is making that turn around 
the rocks,” grumbled Stephen, in a lower tone. “I 
don’t see why Dad is such a fraid-cat. I know this 
pond better than he does and — ” 

“If your father says not to skate there that ought 
to go with you,” cut in Dick. “He doesn’t want 
you to — see? Whether it is safe or not has noth- 
ing to do with it.” 

“But it’s so silly! ” went on Stephen. “Why — ” 

“Oh, cut it out! Can it!” ejaculated the East 
Side lad. “Your dad says No and he’s the boss.” 

The ungracious retort Steve offered was lost 
amid the babel of laughter that followed, and the 
skaters darted away up the pond. Indeed, one 
could not long have cherished ill humor amid such 
radiant surroundings. There was too much sun- 
shine, too much sparkle in the clear air; too much 
jollity and happiness. Almost before he realized 
it Stephen’s irritation had vanished and he was 
speeding across the glassy surface of the ice as gay 
as the gayest of the company. 

He never could explain afterward just how it 
happened that he found himself around the bend 
of the quarry and sweeping with the wind toward 
its farther end. He had not actually formulated 
the intention of slipping away from the others and 
invading this forbidden spot. Nevertheless, there 
he was alone in the tiny cove with no one in sight. 
What followed was all over in a moment, — the 


244 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

breaking ice and the plunge into the frigid water. 
The next he knew he was fighting with all his 
strength to prevent himself from being drawn be- 
neath the jagged, crumbling edge of the hole. To 
clamber out was impossible, for every time he tried 
the thin ice would break afresh under his hands 
and submerge him again in the bitter cold of the 
moving stream. Over and over he tried to pull 
himself to safety but without success. Then sud- 
denly he felt himself becoming numb and helpless. 
His teeth chattered and he could no longer retain 
his hold on the frail support that was keeping his 
head above water. He was slipping back into the 
river. He was not going to be able to get out! 

With a piercing scream he made one last desper- 
ate lunge forward, and again the ice that held him 
broke and the water dashed over his ears and 
mouth. 

When he next opened his eyes it was to find him- 
self in his own bed with a confusion of faces bend- 
ing over him. 

“There!” he heard some one say in a very small, 
far-away voice. “He is coming to himself now, 
thank God! It was chiefly cold and fright. He 
is safe now, Tolman. Don’t you worry! You’d 
better go and get off some of your wet clothing, 
or you will catch your death.” 

Mr. Ackerman was speaking. 

“Yes, Henry, do go!” pleaded his wife. 

As Stephen looked about him in the vague, grop- 
ing uncertainty of returning consciousness his 



He was fighting to prevent himself from being drawn beneath the 
jagged, crumbling edge of the hole. Page 244. 




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A THANKSGIVING TRAGEDY 245 

glance fell upon his father who stood beside his 
pillow, shivering nervously. He put out his hand 
and touched the dripping coat sleeve. 

“What — ” began he weakly. 

Then with a rush it all came back to him and 
everything was clear. He had been drowning and 
his father had plunged into the water to save him ! 

A sob rose in his throat and he caught the elder 
man’s hand between both of his. 

“Oh, Dad,” he exclaimed, “I’ve been so rotten 
to you — so mean — so cowardly. I’m ashamed 
to — ” 

“Don’t talk about it now, son. I know.” 

“You know what I did?” 

“Yes.” 

“But — ” the boy paused bewildered. 

“Don’t talk any more about it now, Stevie,” 
pleaded his mother. 

“But I’ve got to know,” said the lad. “Can’t 
you see that — ” 

“Let me talk with him alone a moment,” sug- 
gested Mr. Tolman in an undertone. “He is all 
upset and he won’t calm down until he has this 
thing off his mind. Leave me here with him a little 
while. I’ll promise that he does not tire himself.” 

The doctor, Mr. Ackerman and Mrs. Tolman 
moved across the room toward the window. 

“You asked how I knew, son,” began his father 
with extreme gentleness. “I didn’t really know. 
I just put two and two together. There was the 
scratched machine and the gasoline gone — both 


246 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

of which facts puzzled me not a little. But the 
proof that clinched it all and made me certain of 
what had happened came to me this morning when 
Havens brought me an old red sweater and some 
school papers of Bud Taylor’s that the men who 
were overhauling the car found under the seat. In 
an instant the whole thing was solved.” 

“You knew before we went skating then?” 

“Yes.” 

“And — and — you jumped into the water after 
me just the same.” 

Mr. Tolman’s voice trembled: 

“You are my son and I love you no matter what 
you may do.” 

“Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry!” sobbed the boy. “I 
wanted to tell you — I meant to. It was just that 
I was too much of a coward. I was so ashamed 
of what I had done that I hadn’t the nerve. After 
it was over it all seemed so wrong. I knew you 
would be angry — ” 

“Rather say sorry, son.” 

“Well, sorry. And now that you have been so 
white to me I’m more ashamed still.” 

“There, there, my boy, we will say no more about 
it,” his father declared. “You and your conscience 
have probably had a pretty bitter battle and I 
judge you have not been altogether happy since 
your adventure. People who do wrong never are. 
It is no fun to carry your fault to bed with you 
and find it waiting when you wake up in the morn- 
ing.” 


A THANKSGIVING TRAGEDY 247 

“You bet it isn’t!” replied the lad, with fervor. 
“But can’t I do something now to make good, 
Dad?” 

Mr. Tolman checked an impulsive protest and 
after a moment responded gravely: 

“We will see. Perhaps you would like to earn 
something toward doing over the car.” 

“Yes! Yes! I would!” 

“Well, all that can be arranged later. We — ” 

“Henry,” broke in Mrs. Tolman, “you must go 
this instant and get into some dry clothes. You 
are chilled through. The doctor says Stephen is 
going to be none the worse for his ducking and that 
he can come down stairs to dinner after he has 
rested a little longer. So our Thanksgiving party 
is not to be spoiled, after all. In fact, I believe we 
shall have more to give thanks for than we ex- 
pected,” concluded she, making an unsteady at- 
tempt to speak lightly. 

“I think so, too,” echoed her husband. 

“And so do I!” added Stephen softly, as he ex- 
changed an affectionate smile with his father. 


CHAPTER XIX 

THE END OF THE HOUSE PARTY 

As they were persons of strong constitution and 
in good athletic training neither Mr. Tolman nor 
Steve were any the worse for the narrow escape of 
the morning, and although a trifle spent with ex- 
citement both were able to take their places at the 
dinner table so that no cloud rested on the fes- 
tivity of the day. 

Certainly such a dinner never was, — or if there 
ever had been one like it in history at least Dick 
Martin had never had the luck to sit down to it. 
The soup steaming and hot, the celery white and 
crisp, the sweet potatoes browned in the oven and 
gleaming beneath their glaze of sugar, the cran- 
berry sauce vivid as a bowl of rubies; to say noth- 
ing of squash, and parsnips and onions! And as 
for the turkey, — why, it was the size of an os- 
trich! With what resignation it lay upon its back, 
with what an abject spirit of surrender, — as if it 
realized that resistance was futile and that it must 
docilely offer itself up to make perfect the feast. 
And the pudding, the golden-tinted pies with their 
delicate crust, the nuts; the pyramid of fruit, riot- 
ous in color; the candies of every imaginable hue 


THE END OF THE HOUSE PARTY 249 

and flavor! Was it a wonder that Dick, who had 
never before beheld a real New England home 
Thanksgiving, regarded the novelty with eyes as 
large as saucers and ate until there was not room 
for another mouthful? 

“Gee!” he gasped in a whisper to Stephen, as 
he sank weakly back into his chair when the coffee 
made its appearance. “This sure is some dinner.” 

The others who chanced to overhear the obser- 
vation laughed. 

“Had enough, sonny?” inquired Mr. Tolman. 

“Enough!” 

There was more laughter. 

“I suppose were it not for the trains and the 
ships we should not be having such a meal as this 
to-day,” remarked Mrs. Tplman. 

“You are right,” was Mr. Ackerman’s reply. 
“Let me see! Fruit from Florida, California and 
probably from Italy; flour from the Middle West; 
coffee from South America; sugar probably from 
Cuba; turkey from Rhode Island, no doubt; and 
vegetables from scattered New England farms. 
Add to this cigarettes from Egypt and Turkey and 
you have covered quite a portion of the globe.” 

“It is a pity we do not consider our indebtedness 
to our neighbors all over the world oftener,” com- 
mented Mr. Tolman. “We take so much for 
granted these days. To appreciate our blessings 
to the full we should have lived in early Colonial 
times when the arrival of a ship from across the 
ocean was such an important event that the wares 


250 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

she brought were advertised broadcast. Whenever 
such a vessel came into port a list of her cargo was 
issued and purchasers scrambled eagerly to secure 
the luxuries she carried. Pipes of wine, bolts of 
cloth, china, silks, tea — all were catalogued. It 
was no ordinary happening when such a boat 
docked, I assure you.” 

“I suppose it was a great event,” reflected Mrs. 
Tolman, “although I never half realized it.” 

“And not only was the advent of merchandise 
a red-letter day but so was the advent of travelers 
from the other side of the water. Picture if you 
can the excitement that ensued when Jenny Lind, 
the famous singer, visited this country! And the 
fact that we were now to hear this celebrated 
woman was not the only reason for our interest. 
She had actually come in a ship from across the 
sea! Others would come also. America was no 
longer cut off from the culture of the old world, an 
isolated country bereft of the advantages of Euro- 
pean civilization. We were near enough for dis- 
tinguished persons to make trips here! Charles 
Dickens and the Prince of Wales came — and how 
cosmopolitan we felt to be entertaining guests from 
the mother-country! Certainly the Atlantic could 
not be very wide if it could be crossed so easily and 
if we could have the same speakers, the same 
readers, the same singers as did the English! Our 
fathers and grandfathers must have thrilled with 
satisfaction at the thought. The ocean was con- 
quered and was no longer an estranging barrier*” 


THE END OF THE HOUSE PARTY 251 

“What would they have said to crossing the 
water by aeroplane or bobbing up in a foreign port 
in a submarine ?” put in Doris. 

“And some day I suppose the marvels of our age 
that cause our mouths to open wide and our eyes 
to bulge with amazement will become as humdrum 
as the ocean liner and the Pullman have,” Mrs. 
Tolman remarked. 

“Yes,” returned her husband. “Think of the 
fight every one of these innovations has had to put 
up before it battled its way to success. The first 
locomotives, you remember, were not only rated 
as unsafe for travel but also actually destructive 
to property. The major part of the public had no 
faith in them and predicted they would never be 
used for general travel. As for crossing the ocean 
— why, one was welcome to take his life in his 
hands if he chose, of course ; but to cross in an iron 
ship — it was tempting Providence ! Did not iron 
always sink? And how people ridiculed Darius 
Green and his flying machine! Most of the 
prophets were thought to be crazy. History is 
filled with stories of men who wrecked their worldly 
fortunes to perpetuate an idea, and but too fre- 
quently an idea they never lived to see perfected.” 

During the pause that followed Mr. Ackerman 
leaned across the table and as he sipped his coffee 
asked mischievously: 

“Well, Steve, having now heard both stories, 
have you come to a conclusion which one you are 
going to vote for?” 


2 52 STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE 

“No, sir,” was the dubious response. “I’m 
farther away from a decision than ever. Just as 
I get it settled in my mind that the railroads have 
done the biggest things and conquered the most 
difficulties along come the steamships and I am 
certain they are six times as wonderful.” 

“And you, Dick — what do you say?” ques- 
tioned the financier, smiling. “Surely you are going 
to stand up for the steamboat.” 

But to his chagrin Dick shook his head. 

“I feel as Steve does,” replied he. “No sooner 
do I get settled one way than something turns me 
round the other.” 

“So far as I can see we shall have to leave the 
matter a draw, shan’t we, Tolman?” observed the 
New Yorker. 

“It would be a jolly subject for a debate, 
wouldn’t it?” put in Stephen. “Sometimes we have 
discussions like that at school and the next time 
we do I believe I’ll suggest this topic. It would be 
mighty interesting.” 

“It certainly would,” his father echoed. “But 
it also would be a very sorry event if you could not 
demonstrate that the railroads had the supremacy 
for were their prestige to be threatened I might 
have to move out of town.” 

“In case Connecticut did not want you, you 
might come to New York where you would be sure 
of being appreciated,” put in Mr. Ackerman. 
“And that is not all talk, either, for I want you 
and the whole family to give me a promise to-day 


THE END OF THE HOUSE PARTY 253 

that you will come over and join Dick and me at 
Christmas. IVe never had a boy of my own to 
celebrate the holiday with before, you must remem- 
ber; but this time I have a real family and I am 
going to have a real Christmas/’ he continued, 
smiling affectionately at the lad beside him. “So 
I want every one of you to come and help me to 
make the day a genuine landmark. And if I’m a 
little new at playing Santa Claus some of you who 
have been schooled in the role for many years can 
show me how. We can’t promise to stage for you 
such an excitement as Stephen got up for us this 
morning, and we never can give you a dinner equal 
to this; but we can give you a royal welcome. You 
can come by boat or come by train,” added he 
slyly. “No guest who patronizes the railroads will 
be shut out, even if he is misguided. The chief 
thing is for you to come, one and all, and we will 
renew our friendship and once again bless Stephen, 
Dick, and my lost pocketbook, for bringing us to- 
gether.” 


FINIS 



The first volume in “The Invention Series 


PAUL AND THE 
PRINTING PRESS 


By SARA WARE BASSETT 
With illustrations by A. O. Scott 
1 2mo. Cloth. 218 pages. 


Paul Cameron, president of the class of 1920 in the Burmingham 
High School, conceives the idea of establishing a school paper, to 
the honor and glory of his class. So The March Hare comes into 
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to making it a success. They have their difficulties and Paul in 
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only a class success, but a town institution. This is the first 
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“It is the sort of story that boys of fourteen years and upward 
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story that will give some information as well.” — New York 
Evening Post. 

“ ‘Paul and the Printing Press’ not only has a keen story inter- 
est, but has the advantage of carrying much valuable information 
for all young folks for whom the mysterious and all-powerful 
printing press has an attraction.” — Boston Herald. 


LITTLE, BROWN & CO., Publishers 
34 Beacon Street, Boston 






























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